THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


BOLAND  AND  EUNICE.— PAGE  34 


J 


A  LEARNER  IN  LIFE'S  SCHOOL 


BY  THE  AUTHOB  OP 

"THE  TOtTNG    I^TMEN,"   "THI  BOSEDAIJi    BOOKS,"  "  UNDEB   TUB   BXT- 

LIGHT,"  arc. 


1  Pastures  lowly,  waitings  still, 
Looks  subdued  to  duty's  will ; 
Beverent,  thoughtful,  grave  and  sweet ; 
These  to  wait  on  Christ  are  meet" 


E.   P.    BUTTON    &    COMPANY 
713  BBOADWAT 

1872 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1872,  by 

E.   P.   BUTTON,   &  CO., 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


VI.  JOHKIAND  STEREOTYPE  FOUNDRY,  SUFFOLK  CO.,  H.  T. 


"PZ 


CO^TE^TS. 


CHAPTERS  TAOTt 

L    CONFLICTING     DITTIES 5 

n.  AUNT  EDITH'S  PROPOSAL 15 

HI.    THE     IMPOBTANT    DECISION 27 

IV.    PLEASANT   PROSPECTS 43 

V.    HOPES   FULFILLED 54 

VL    HAPPY   CHRISTMAS 71 

VEL    A    CLOUD   ARISES 83 

Vni.    THE  CLOUDS  SHOW  THE   SILVER    LIXTNG 100 

IX.    BHODA 114 

X.    LENTEN  LESSONS , 127 

XI.    ANXIOUS    DATS 139 

XH.    A  MEMORABLE    WEEK 152 

Xm.    RANNET 166 

XIV.  INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAY 182 

XV.  PLEASANT  THINGS 199 

XVL   "  SWEET  COUNSEL" 214 

XVH.  HOME  AGAIN 225 

(3) 


622664 


EUNICE   SOMERS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Conflicting  Jputus. 

"  No  fruit  of  cold  neglect ; 
But  goodly  purpose  gone  astray, 
Where  jealous  care  can  scarce  detect 
The  first  divergence  of  the  way." 

[ANNEY !  Do  make  a  little  less 
noise !  I  can't  hear  myself  think !" 
The  speaker  was  a  girl,  under 
fourteen,  who  seemed  indeed  to  be  thinking 
under  difficulties.  She  was  pacing  up  and 
down  the  room,  carrying  a  baby  brother, 
balanced  in  a  peculiar  manner  upon  her  hip ; 
while  with  the  other  hand  she  held  a  book, 
outstretched  as  far  as  she  could  see  the  words, 
to  be  out  of  reach  of  the  little  one,  who  was 

(5) 


6  EUNICE   SOMEES. 

kicking  and  squirming  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
possess  himself  of  it. 

"  Hie,  ilia,  illud :"  repeated  Eunice,  conning 

her  declension. 

«'  Le,  la,  lud, 
My  horse  is  stuck  in  the  mud  !" 

shouted  the  irrepressible  Ranney,  behind  her, 
pretending  to  urge  up  his  stick  horse,  despe- 
rately. The  other  children  laughed  merrily, 
but  Eunice  was  out  of  all  patience.  She  put 
the  baby  down  upon  the  floor,  and  seized  upon 
the  offender  in  no  gentle  mood. 

"  You  are  a  perfect  plague  !"  she  cried  :  "  and 
if  you  don't  let  me  study  in  peace,  I'll  see  if  I 
cannot  make  you !" 

"  Stop  pinching  my  arm !"  returned  Ranney, 
with  a  grimace.  Then  hearing  his  mother's 
step  in  the  hall  without,  he  suddenly  realized 
that  he  was  very  much  hurt,  and  began  to  cry 
accordingly ;  the  baby  joining  in  with  all  his 
might. 

Mrs.  Somers  opened  the  door  upon  this 
scene  of  confusion ;  and,  taking  up  the  baby, 
looked  for  an  explanation. 

"  Eanney  wouldn't  let  Eunice  study  a  bit," 


CONFLICTING  DUTIES.  7 

said  little  Bess,  when  no  one  else  spoke ; 
"  and  I  guess  she  pinched  him  a  little,  but  I 
don't  believe  she  meant  to !" 

Mrs.  Somers  glanced  reproachfully  at  Eunice. 

"  You  promised  to  take  care  of  the  children, 
and  amuse  them  while  I  was  out.  I  thought  I 
had  arranged  to  give  you  time  enough  for  study 
this  evening,  did  I  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  mother,  but  this  was  an  extra  lesson," 
Eunice  replied  in  some  confusion. 

"  An  extra  lesson  ?"  Mrs.  Somers  picked 
tip  the  Latin  grammar,  which  had  fallen  to  the 
floor,  in  the  strife. 

"  Then  you  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
to  begin  Latin,  Eunice  ?" 

"  Well,  mother,  I  could  do  it,  I  was  sure  I 
could,  at  odd  hours :  I  could  have  studied 
a  little,  just  now,  as  well  as  not,  if  Ranney  had 
not  been  so — provoking !" 

The  expression  might  have  been  a  stronger 
one,  had  not  Eunice  perceived  that  her  Aunt 
Edith  had  entered  the  room.  This  lady  was 
making  a  brief  visit  at  her  sister's  home ;  and  it 
was  on  her  account  that  Mrs.  Somers  had  done 


8  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

such  an  unwonted  thing  as  to  go  out  for  a  walk 
in  the  afternoon,  and  a  call  upon  some  old 
friends. 

"  I  know  I  am  interrupting  a  whole  train  of 
employment,  in  asking  such  a  thing;"  her 
sister  had  said,  mischievously,  "but  I  don't 
feel  the  least  compunction  ;  it  is  a  good  thing 
for  you  to  have  some  one  come  and  interrupt 
you,  once  in  a  while  ;  you  would  work  yourself 
to  death,  else,  I  do  believe." 

Eunice  was  struck  by  this  remark,  and  by 
the  recollection  cf  the  unceasing  round  of  cares 
and  labors  in  which  her  mother  was  occupied. 
So  she  had  joined  quite  heartily  in  urging  her 
mother  to  go  out  for  the  afternoon,  declaring 
that  she  could  take  care  of  the  baby,  and 
of  the  other  children,  as  well  as  not. 

So  she  could  have  done,  undoubtedly ;  no 
one  could  excel  Eunice  in  amusing  little  folks, 
when  her  heart  was  in  the  matter.  It  ,was 
a  lovely  autumn  afternoon,  and  she  yielded  to 
the  request  of  the  young  ones  to  "  bring  little 
"Walter  out  of  doors,  and  have  a  game  with 
them." 


CONFLICTING  DUTIES.  9 

All  went  on  well  for  an  hour  or  so,  and 
Eunice  herself  was  enjoying  the  romp ;  when 
all  at  once  the  thought  of  her  contraband  Latin 
lesson  flashed  upon  her  mind. 

"  There !  I  meant  to  have  learned  it  this 
afternoon  :  I  shall  have  all  I  can  do  in  my  study 
hour  with  my  History  and  Philosophy.  Now 
I  shall  fail :  and  then  Roland  will  prim  up  his 
lips  to  keep  from  smiling !  Hateful !  I  wish 
he  would  giggle  right  out,  if  he  feels  so  much 
like  it!" 

The  thought  of  Roland's  contempt,  real  or 
imagined,  was  too  much  for  Eunice ;  she  took 
little  Walter  into  the  house,  and  essayed  to  do 
two  things  at  once. 

But  baby  did  not  relish  the  change  of  pro- 
gramme, and  she  was  obliged  to  walk  with  him, 
to  amuse  him.  Then  the  other  children,  their 
play  being  interrupted,  followed  her  into  the 
house ;  and  we  have  seen  the  result. 

The  parents  of  Eunice  were  persons  of  in- 
telligence and  refinement,  as  well  as  of  ster- 
ling worth.  Mr.  Somers  had  been  for  some 
years  in  poor  health,  which  had  greatly  hindered 


10  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

his  business;  and,  in  consequence,  the  family 
•were  in  straitened  circumstances. 

It  was  not  from  any  want  of  appreciation,  on 
the  part  of  her  parents,  of  the  advantages  of  a 
liberal  education,  that  Eunice  was  obliged  to 
study  by  stealth.  She  was  the  eldest  child; 
and  though  it  was  at  times  very  difficult  for 
her  mother  to  spare  her,  nothing  but  the 
demands  of  some  unforeseen  exigency  was  ever 
allowed  to  interrupt  her  regular  attendance  at 
the  village  academy. 

But  Mrs.  Somers  was  obliged  to  depend  a 
good  deal  upon  her  daughter's  help  out  of 
school  hours;  and  as  Eunice  was  not  very 
strong,  she  was  unwilling  to  have  her  take  up 
so  many  studies  as  to  require  much  application 
out  of  school. 

This  year  the  academy  had  come  into  the 
hands  of  an  excellent  teacher,  a  Mr.  Hale,  who 
had  inspired  all  his  pupils  with  a  new  ambition 
in  their  studies. 

Among  other  plans,  he  had  formed  a  class  of 
girls  in  Latin,  which  was  rather  a  new  thing  in 
the  village.  Eunice  was  very  anxious  to  join 


CONFLICTING  DUTIES.  11 

this  class/but  her  parents  had  discouraged  her 
from  doing  so,  for  the  reasons  above  men- 
tioned. 

Roland  Wells,  the  Roland  to  whom  we  have 
heard  Eunice  allude,  was  a  near  neighbor  of 
the  Somers  family :  he  attended  the  academy 
also,  and  was  in  the  same  classes  with  Eunice 
in  English  studies. 

The  two  were  pretty  good  friends,  in  general ; 
but  Eunice  had  confided  to  Roland  her  earnest 
wish  to  enter  the  Latin  class,  and  to  her 
surprise  and  chagrin,  he  had  sided  with  her 
parents  in  the  matter.  Eunice  was  vexed,  and 
took  up  the  notion  that  he  thought  giils  were 
not  competent  to  study  Latin  successfully ;  and 
it  was  all  in  vain  that  Roland  protested  he  had 
no  such  thought. 

In  fact,  Eunice  had  set  her  heart  upon  taking 
up  the  new  study,  and  iu  asking  advice,  she  had 
only  sought  approval,  as  people  often  do. 

Mr.  Hale,  her  teacher,  was  quite  proud  of  her 
scholarship  and  ambition,  and  was  pleased  to 
allow  her  to  join  the  class  conditionally,  lending 
her  a  book  of  his  own  until  she  should  prove 


12  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

that  she  could  "make  time,"  as  she  said,  to 
carry  on  the  study. 

Poor  Eunice  !  She  had  been  obliged  to  make 
time,  indeed,  out  of  small  fragments,  to  accom- 
plish her  purpose.  It  had  seemed  to  her  that 
never  had  there  been  such  a  busy  time,  as 
since  she  began  to  study  Latin.  First,  Bess 
was  sick ;  then  it  was  house-cleaning ;  and  then 
came  Aunt  Edith's  visit. 

She  had  been  obliged  to  smuggle  her 
grammar  to  the  ironing-table  with  her,  and 
hide  it  beneath  the  pile  of  towels,  napkins,  and 
such  like,  which  were  her  share  of  the  ironing  : 
in  consequence,  the  said  towels  were  apt  to  be 
folded  far  from  straight,  and  laid  aside  with 
curled  edges.  More  than  once,  the  same 
grammar  had  changed  color  upon  its  open 
page,  from  being  stationed  upon  the  shelf  over 
the  sink,  while  Eunice  was  washing  up  the  tea- 
things,  in  quite  too  close  proximity  to  the  soap- 
dish. 

I  do  not  think  this  argued  any  improper  pride 
in  the  scholarly  book,  but  only  a  just  sense  of 
the  fitness  of  things. 


CONFLICTING  DUTIES.  13 

In  short,  Eunice  had  not  proved,  *i  this  busy 
time,  the  efficient  helper  she  was  capable  of 
being;  and  her  mother  felt  that  the  mystery 
was  explained,  as  she  picked  up  the  Latin 
Grammar.  Aunt  Edith  had  observed  a  good 
deal,  and  guessed  at  more,  of  the  state  of 
things  with  her  favorite  niece;  and  a  plan 
which  she  had  dimly  in  her  mind  when  she  left 
home,  had  matured  rapidly  during  her  visit. 

To  return  to  the  time  and  place  at  which  we 
introduced  Eunice  to  our  readers. 

Aunt  Edith  laid  aside  her  things,  and  claimed 
an  exclusive  right  to  little  Walter,  until  tea- 
time.  George  and  Runney  suddenly  realized 
that  the  bright  October  afternoon, —  Saturday 
afternoon,  too, — was  almost  gone ;  and  they 
rushed  out-doors  for  another  game. 

Bess  and  little  Susy  were  wonderfully 
entertained  by  the  nursery  rhymes  and  com- 
ical stories  which  Aunt  Edith  was  telling  to 
little  Walter;  of  course,  with  no  thought  of  any 
other  listeners. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Eunice  had  full 
leisure  to  finish  her  lesson,  and  also  to  think 


14  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

over  the  occurrences  of  the  afternoon.  These 
thoughts  made  Eunice  feel  rather  disturbed 
and  uncomfortable,  lu  fact,  this  state  of  feel- 
ing was  by  no  means  new  to  her  ;  many  times, 
of  late,  had  she  been  made  uneasy  by  discover- 
ing a  'flaw'  in  her  work;  the  inevitable 
consequence  of  'breaking  a  thread  in  the  loom,' 
by  overlooking  '  present  duty.' 

"  0  dear !"  sighed  the  girl,  "  everything 
that  I  touch  seems  to  go  wrong ;  why  must 
things  pile  up  so  !  I  am  sure  it  would  have 
been  almost  wicked  for  me  to  lose  this  chance 
of  beginning  Latin,  when  I  do  so  want  to  be 
fitted  for  a  teacher  !  I  would  work  so  hard ; 
and  do  something  and  be  somebody  in  the 
world,  if  I  could  only  have  the  chance  !  But, 
just  as  surely  as  I  set  about  anything  which 
seems  really  worth  while,  any  quantity  of  teas- 
ing little  things  will  turn  up  to  be  done !  It's 
like  trying  to  run  a  race  through  a  bramble- 
patch  !" 


CHAPTER  II. 

JUmt  (Ctnth's  proposal. 

"Ask  Hi*  PCM«  to  lull  to  rert 
Kvory  tumult  of  'ihe  breant  I 
Aak  His  soul-trasUining  truth 
Aa  the  spring-dew  of  thy  youth." 

|  HATevening,  when  the  sisters  chanced 
to  be  together  for  n  short  time,  sup- 
posing themselves  with  no  auditor 
but  the  baby, — restless  little  Walter,  whose 
sleepy  hour  had  not  yet  arrived, — Mrs.  Hart- 
well  took  the  opportunity  to  broach  her 
scheme. 

"  Madeline !  Suppose  you  were  to  lend 
Eunice  to  me  for  this  winter?  Now  don't 
shake  your  head  and  look  such  a  decided 
negative  until  you  hear  all  I  have  to  say.  I 
assure  you  my  project  is  not  to  be  set  aside 

with  a  nod.    The  fact  is,  what  with  her  home 

(15) 


16  EUNICE   SOMEKS. 

duties,  and  her  ambition  for  studj,  the  child  is 
orer-working  herself ;  and  not  only  her  health, 
but  her  spirits  and  temper  are  suffering  in  con- 
sequence. I  know  that  you  are  aware  of  this 
to  some  extent,  and  that  it  worries  you ;  but 
even  you  cannot  see  it  as  I  do.  Why,  the 
way  she  has  of  carrying  that  heavy  child  on 
one  side  is  enough  to  injure  her  of  itself ;  it 
really  seems  to  ine  that  she  is  growing  out  of 
shape." 

"  That  is  true,"  sighed  Mrs.  Somers,  "  and  I 
reprove  her  every  time  I  see  it;  but  Eunice 
thinks  time  is  entirely  wasted  in  tending  baby, 
unless  she  can  be  reading,  or  doing  something 
else,  at  the  same  time." 

"  I  know — I  see  how  it  is.  As  I  said,  she  is 
full  of  girlish  ambitions,  and  they  seeni  to  me 
very  laudable  ones,  in  their  way. 

"  I  know  you  think  it  is  very  naughty  of  her 
to  be  so  unwilling  to  help  you  with  your  heavy 
burdens,  and  I  do  not  mean  to  justify  her  im- 
patience ;  only  excuse  me  if  I  suggest,  dear 
sister,  that  your  shoulders  are  fitted  to  the  bur- 
den, by  all  wifely  and  maternal  instincts,  help- 


A.UXT  EDITH'S  ruorosAL.  17 

ing  you  to  bear  up  under  it.  Her  position  is 
very  different.  To  be  sure,  she  ought  to  love, 
honor,  and  succor  her  parents,  but  it  is  natural, 
too,  for  her  to  be  forming  plans  for  her  own 
course  in  life. 

"  Now  if  you  could  arrange  to  spare  her  to 
me  this  winter,  I  do  think  it  would  be  the  best 
thing  for  her.  It  would  give  her  time  to  get 
over  this  irritated  feeling  of  being  thwarted  in 
her  ambitions.  I  can  teach  her  myself  in  her 
English  branches,  and  Ransom  will,  I  know, 
willingly  instruct  her  in  Latin. 

"  I  will  attend  to  her  clothing,  so  that  she 
shall  be  no  expense  to  you  at  all;  and  it 
seems  to  me  that,  when  you  are  relieved  of  her 
schooling,  and  other  expenses,  you  can  afford 
to  hire  a  stout  young  girl  to  help  you  with  the 
baby,  and  so  on. 

"Now,  dear  sister,  I  want  you  to  think 
seriously  of  my  plan,  before  you  say  '  No ;' 
think  of  it  over  Sunday,  and  talk  it  up  with  her 
father. 

"  Oh !  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  mention  a 
part  of  my  scheme.  You  must  know  we  have 
2 


18  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

an  excellent  teacher  of  drawing  and  painting 
near  us ;  and  if  you  approve,  I  would  like  to 
have  Eunice  take  lessons  of  him.  I  have 
always  thought  she  had  a  great  deal  of  taste  in 
that  line." 

Now  it  happened  that  Eunice  had  come  into 
the  parlor,  from  which  opened  the  little  sewing- 
room  where  her  mother  and  aunt  were  sitting, 
with  the  intention  of  offering  to  take  little 
Walter ;  but  she  had  spied  a  new  magazine 
upon  the  table,  and,  as  her  brother  George 
would  have  said,  had  "  grown  to  it,"  uncon- 
scious of  baby  and  everything  else,  until  her 
attention  was  recalled  to  things  passing,  by 
some  of  her  Aunt  Edith's  words,  which  reached 
her  ear. 

"  If  you  could  arrange  to  spare  her  " — "  Eng- 
lish studies"  — "Latin"  -Eunice  overheard 
enough  to  get  the  drift  of  her  aunt's  proposal. 
She  heard  as  if  in  a  dream ;  but  suddenly 
aroused  herself,  and  slipped  out  of  the  room ; 
too  honorable  to  remain  aud  listen,  although 
her  heart  bent  quick  with  eager  longing  to 
know  what  her  mother  would  reply.  As  she 


AUNT  EDITH'S  PROPOSAL.  19 

closed  the  door,  however,  she  heard  the  words1 
"  Think  of  it  over  Sunday." 

Eunice  sped  up  into  her  own  little  room,  and 
bolting  the  door,  rushed  forward  and  threw 
her  arms  around  a  silent  figure,  exclaiming : 

"  Oh,  Lucilla,  you  darling!  It  is  too  good  to 
think  of!  It  cannot  come  true;  but,  if  it 
should  ! — Oh,  if  mother  should  say  yes !" 

And  who  was  this  favored  confidante  ? 

I  fear  my  readers  will  form  a  low  opinion  of 
the  good  sense  of  our  Eunice,  if  I  confess  that 
Lucilla,  the  beloved,  was  but  a  doll ! 

"A  girl  of  nearly  fourteen  hugging  a  doll, 
and  talking  to  it ;  absurd !" 

Doubtless ;  yet,  my  wise  and  worthy  friends 
of  that  interesting  age,  are  you  never  guilty  of 
an  absurdity,  in  the  privacy  of  your  own 
room? 

A  girl  who  has  a  sister,  near  her  own  age, 
and  sympathizing,  as  a  sister  should  be,  needs 
no  such  device  ;  but,  failing  this  most  precious 
intimacy,  every  young  maiden  craves  some 
substitute ;  and  it  is  well  for  her  if  the  out- 
pourings of  her  heart  be  not  confided  to  some 


20  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

more  injudicious  bosom  friend  than  poor  Lu- 
cilla  ! 

To  apologize  in  part  for  this  folly  of  our 
friend  Eunice,  it  should  be  explained,  that 
Lucilla  had  been  given  to  her  when  she  was  a 
little  child ;  and  the  really  beautiful  doll  was 
for  a  long  time  the  very  joy  of  her  heart. 

Little  Boss,  then  the  creeping  baby, — there 
was  always  one  at  that  stage  of  progress,  as  it 
seemed ; — was  the  unfortunate  means  of  hope- 
lessly maiming  the  beloved  object. 

Poor  little  Eunice's  grief  was  so  heartfelt 
and  touching  as  to  arouse  the  sympathies  of  a 
friend,  who  took  the  severed  head,  the  face 
being  uninjured,  and  skilfully  adjusted  it  upon 
the  form  of  a  pincushion  doll,  to  stand  upon 
the  bureau,  in  the  little  mourner's  own  room. 

The  relief  and  delight  of  the  child  well  repaid 
her  friend's  efforts.  Never  was  a  pin  allowed 
to  inflict  injury  upon  her  dear  Lucilla ;  and, 
from  childish  caresses  and  words  of  endearment, 
Eunice  had  unconsciously  gone  on  to  confide 
the  deeper  feelings  of  her  heart,  as  she  grew 
older,  to  this  long-time  friend. 


AUNT  EDITH'S  PROPOSAL.  21 

In  fact,  she  talked  to  Lncilla  as  another 
would  have  written  in  a  journal ;  only  far  more 
volubly  and  freely. 

"But  if  it  should!  If  father  and  mother 
would  let  me  go ! " 

How  fast  the  thoughts  of  the  girl  flew  onward 
as  she  repeated  these  words !  What  a  vision 
of  delight  flitted  before  her  mind  ! 

"Think  of  it!"  she  whispered;  "for  a 
whole  winter,  perhaps,  no  baby-tending,  no 
hard  work,  but  to  study  ns  much  as  I  please  ; — 
and  Latin ! — and  with  Uncle  Hansom  for  a 
teacher !  Wouldn't  I  get  ahead  of  Master 
Roland  a  notch  or  two !  He  should  see  what 
girls  can  do  !  " 

If  Eunice  had  overheard  what  her  Aunt 
Edith  had  added  about  lessons  in  drawing,  I 
am  afraid  sweet  Lncilla  would  have  been  anni- 
hilated by  an  over- vehement  caress. 

For,  to  learn  drawing;  to  sketch  from  na- 
ture ; — possibly  to  paint  well, — had  ever  been 
an  object  f  ir  in  the  dim  delightful  distance  in 
Eunice's  dreamings.  She  had,  as  her  aunt  had 
observed,  a  natural  taste  and  gift  in  that  direc- 


22  EUNICE   SOMEES. 

tion ;  but  there  had  been  so  little  to  call  it 
forth,  and  develope  it,  that  she  was  only  aware 
of  a  great  love  for  the  beautiful  art. 

"  When  I  can  teach,  and  earn  a  good  salary, 
I  will  learn  to  draw,"  was  her  mental  resolve. 

As  Eunice  still  stood,  with  her  arms  thrown 
around  Lucilla,  the  voice  of  little  Bess  at  the 
door  disturbed  her  excited  imaginings. 

"  Euuie !  Let  me  in  !  Mamma  has  been  a- 
wonderin'  and  wonderiu'  where  you  could  be, 
and  I  guess  you'd  better  go  down-stairs !  " 

Eunice  opened  the  door  hastily.  "  Come, 
then;  I  suppose  it  is  time  for  you  all  to  be 
washed  and  put  to  bed ;  don't  go  in  there, 
Bess  :  come  right  down,  with  me ! " 

"  You  needn't  be  so  cross,"  said  the  little 
girl;  "I  don't  want  to  touch  anything,  only 
just  to  look  at  Lucilla  ;  —  isnt  she  pretty  ?  just 
us  pretty  as  ever !  " 

"Of  course;  why  not?  But  she  wouldn't  be, 
very  long,  if  you  were  to  have  your  way. 
Come,  I  can't  leave  you  in  there  !  " 

And  Eunice  drew  her  sister  from  the  room, 
not  very  gently,  and  closed  the  door. 


AUNT  EDITH'S  PROPOSAL.  23 

"  You  needn't  be  so  cross  !  "  A  very  truthful 
observation,  and  one  which  Bess  had  had 
occasion  to  make  often,  of  late. 

The  "  crossness  "  had  been  all  too  common, 
aud  excuses  hud  been  more  and  more  easily 
rendered,  until  Eunice  had  almost  ceased  to 
feel  them  necessary.  But  this  evening,  little 
Bessie's  remonstrance  was  echoed  by  the  con- 
science of  the  elder  sister  ;  especially  when,  on 
going  down  to  her  mother,  she  was  met  with  a 
•wistful  look  of  tenderness  which  spoke  to  her 
•very  heart. 

"  Mother  would  miss  me  sadly,"  she  thought 
to  herself ; — at  least,  she  ought  to  miss  me,  but 
I'm  afraid  I  haven't  helped  her  much  of  late." 

The  upbraidings  of  conscience  mingling  with 
the  tumultuous  hopes  awakened  within  the 
past  hour,  gave  Eunice  enough  to  think  of 
"  over  Sunday,"  as  her  aunt  had  expressed  it. 

She  lay  down  to  rest  that  night  feeling  that 
she  could  not  wait  until  Monday  to  know  her 
fate.  But  the  blessed  atmosphere  of  calm  and 
rest  which  is  breathed  on  the  morning  of  the 
Lord's  day,  in  a  house  whose  inmates  are 


24  EUNICE   SOMEBS. 

trained  to  its  observance,  exerted  its  wonted 
influence,  as  Eunice  awoke,  and  prepared  to 
engage  in  the  duties  of  the  day. 

It  was  not  alone  the  hnbit  of  a  child  of  a 
religious  household,  which  controlled  her. 
Young  as  she  was,  and  careless  as  she  may 
have  appeared  to  the  reader,  Eunice  had,  some 
mouths  previously  to  the  opening  of  our  story, 
"  with  her  own  mouth  ratified  and  confirmed 
the  promises  of  her  baptism ;"  and  had  been 
admitted  to  the  Table  of  the  Lord.  There  are 
those,  I  well  know,  who  would  strongly  object 
to  such  a  step  on  the  part  of  one  so  young,  and 
so  immature  in  Christian  faith  and  experience. 

Happily  for  Eunice,  her  parents  and  her 
pastor  held  other  views  upon  this  point.  They 
believed  that  the  child  trained  from  infancy  to 
walk  in  the  road  to  Zion,  with  those  whose 
faces  were  thitherward,  was  to  be  encouraged 
to  persevere  in  that  holy  walk  and  way  :  they 
would  no  more  have  denied  the  Bread  of  Life 
to  the  earnest  desire  of  the  youthful  pilgrim, 
than  they  would  have  withheld  the  "  sincere 
milk  of  the  word  "  from  the  need  of  infancy. 


UNT  EDITH'S  PROPOSAL.  25 

Eunice  was  in  earnest  in  the  wish  and  pur- 
pose to  live  as  a  child  of  God,  although  many 
times  she  sadly  failed  in  this  purpose. 

Therefore  it  was  that  she  tried  to  put  aside 
from  her  mind  the  engrossing  question  of  the 
evening  before,  and  give  her  attention  to  the 
sacred  duties  of  the  day. 

Opening  her  Prayer-book,  to  glance  once 
more  at  the  collect  before  going  to  church, 
Eunice  was  struck  with  a  new  and  deeper 
meaning  in  the  words  than  she  had  noticed 
before. 

It  was  the  Twentieth  Sunday  after  Trinity, 
and  the  expression  which  so  fixed  her  atten- 
tion, was  this : 

"  That  we  being  ready  both  in  body  and 
soul,  may  cheerfully  accomplish  those  things 
which  Thou  commaudest,  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord." 

"  I  suppose,  after  all,  these  things  I  have 
had  to  do,  that  vexed  me  so,  were  a  part  of 
what  God  commanded ;  and  I  have  not  been 
doing  them  cheerfully,  I  know." 

So  spoke  the  conscience  of  the  girl,  as  she 


26  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

stood  with  her  book  in  her  hand,  musing. 
Then  followed  the  question,  "  What  is  it  that 
has  '  hurt '  me,  aud  kept  me  Lack  from  my 
duty?"  and  the  faint  consciousness  that  she 
had  been  trying  to  walk  in.  a  path  of  her  own 
choosing,  and  not  humbly  following  on  in  the 
way  marked  out  for  her. 

These  reflections  were  deepened  by  the 
sermon  that  morning,  which  was  upon  a  text 
taken  from  the  Epistle  for  the  day :  "  Be  ye 
not  unwise,  but  understanding  what  the  will  of 
the  Lord  is." 

Before  the  day  closed,  Eunice  found  time,  in 
the  secret  of  her  own  chamber,  to  repeat  the 
collect  humbly  and  earnestly,  praying  also  for 
help  to  understand  the  will  of  the  Lord,  and 
trying  to  resolve  to  be  more  faithful  in  her 
daily  and  obvious  duties,  even  if  it  were  decided 
that  she  should  remain  at  home. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

<Lbt  Important   pension. 

'  Tinged  too  her  thought*  •ome  show  of  fldr  romance, 
The  fruit  of  youth,  and  nuned  by  vmriotu  chance." 

IEFORE  the  day  closed  also,  the 
parents  of  Eunice  found  time  for 
prayerful  thought  and  counsel  upon 
the  question  which  Mrs.  Hart  well  had  laid 
before  them.  It  was  a  matter  not  unfit  for 
discussion  upon  the  evening  of  the  Lord's  Day, 
for  they  both  felt  that  not  the  worldly  interests 
of  their  child,  alone,  were  involved. 

We  will  not  follow  the  reasoning  by  which 
they  were  brought  to  the  decision  that,  on  the 
whole,  it  would  be  best  for  Eunice  to  go  with 
her  aunt.  Mrs.  Hartwell  seemed  truly  glad 
when  she  was  told ;  and  when  the  mother 
added, — "If  Eunice  herself  is  willing,  and 

(27) 


28  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

pleased  to  go  :  you  know  we  have  said  nothing 
to  Lev  yet," — her  smile  answered  that  she 
feared  no  objections  from  Eunice.  It  was  not 
until  the  children  had  gone  to  school  that  the 
matter  was  finally  settled  ;  and  Eunice  found  it 
hard  to  fix  her  thoughts  upon  her  lessons  that 
morning. 

"I  hope" . thought  she  to  herself,  "I  shall 
know  how  it  is  to  be  before  another  day." 

As  soon  as  she  returned  from  school,  she 
sought  her  mother,  in  the  hope  that  some 
allusion  would  be  made  to  the  subject  of  her 
impatient  thought.  Aunt  Edith  was  sitting 
with  her  at  work,  and  the  two  exchanged 
glances  as  Eunice  entered. 

"What  shall  I  do  now,  mother?" 

"  Sit  down  with  us  a  little  while,  daughter ; 
we  have  something  to  talk  to  you  about ;"  and 
Eunice  seated  herself,  with  a  fast  beating 
heart,  on  a  stool  at  her  mother's  feet. 

Aunt  Edith's  proposal  was  then  explained 
to  her  at  length ;  the  additional  charm  of  the 
drawing  lessons  sufficing  to  call  forth  the  look 
of  delighted  surprise  which  her  aunt  was  confi- 


THE   IMPORTANT  DECISION.  29 

clently  watching  to  see.  A  pause,  cluriug 
which  Eunice  hid  her  face  iu  her  mother's 
lap. 

"  "Well,  my  child,"  said,  Mrs.  Somers,  fondly 
stroking  her  hair,  "  what  do  you  think  of  it  ? 
Look  up  and  tell  us." 

"  I  think  auntie  is  very  kind  ; — and — and, 
oh,  mother !  I  should  so  like  to  go,  if  you  can 
spare  me !" 

"  Oh,  we  have  talked  that  all  over ;"  inter- 
posed Aunt  Edith.  "  Your  mother  will  have  all 
that  you  cost  her  for  clothing,  and  so  on,  to 
hire  help  with." 

Eunice  looked  doubtfully  at  her  mother,  who 
met  the  look  with  a  smile.  Mrs.  Hortwell  had 
very  little  idea  with  how  much  of  turning  and 
refitting,  and  with  how  little  of  actual  outlay 
for  new  material,  the  little  bodies  of  that 
family  were  clothed. 

A  speech  of  little  Bessie's  had  passed  into  a 
proverb  in  the  house : — Once,  when  she  was 
invited  to  some  little  festivity,  her  mamma 
demurred,  because,  as  she  said,  "  The  child 
had  nothing  fit  to  wear."  Little  Bess  exclaimed, 


30  EUNICE  SORTERS. 

excitedly;  "Oh,  rip,  mamma,  rip!"  She  was 
accustomed  to  see  her  wardrobe  enlarged  by 
means  of  ripping. 

Eunice  was  thinking  that  the  oft-tried  expe- 
dient, which  had  availed  to  supply  many 
deficiencies  of  the  wardrobe,  would  not  answer 
as  well  to  pay  the  wages  of  a  servant. 

"  I  think  I  shall  manage  very  well,  although 
I  shall  miss  you,  darling,"  said  the  mother, 
cheerfully. 

"  Walter  will  soon  learn  to  walk,  now,  and 
tlieu  Bess  will  help  me  very  much  with  him ; 
and,  as  auntie  says,  I  must  try  to  hire  more 
help." 

"  Then  I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  but  study ; 
and  oh,  how  I  .will  work  at  it! — But,  Aunt 
Edith,  I  thought, — I  mean,"  added  Eunice, 
a  little  confused,  "  had  you  not  better  send  me 
to  school?  I  shall  take  so  much  of  your 
time." 

"  We  will  see,"  said  her  aunt ;  "  there  is  an 
excellent  girls'  school  near  us,  if  you  wisb  to  go 
to  it :  but  you  know  I  am  an  old  hand  at 
teaching,  and  you  could  not  have  a  better 


THE  IMPORTANT  DECISION.  31 

teacher  in  L:itin  than  your  uncle ;  and  I 
thought  you  were  just  the  sort  of  girl  to  enjoy 
studying  alone,  with  the  privilege  of  getting  on 
as  fast  as  you  choose." 

Eunice  smiled,  while  her  eyes  sparkled  with 
delight ;  and  her  mother  saw,  with  a  secret 
paiig,  that  her  choice  was  made. 

"  Well !"  said  Aunt  Edith,  in  her  lively  way, 
"  do  you  suppose,  Miss  Somers,  you  can  ac- 
complish the  important  business  of  settling  up 
home  affairs  for  the  winter,  packing,  leave* 
taking,  and  so  on,  and  be  ready  to  go  home 
with  me  by  Thursday  ?" 

Eunice  started,  aud  involuntarily  clasped  her 
mother's  hand:  "So  soon  as  that!"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Why  yes,  dear  child ;  think  what  a  visit  I 
have  made  already  !  I  meant  to  start  for  home 
earlier  in  the  week,  but  I  shall  wait  until 
Thursday  for  the  pleasure  of  your  company." 

"There  comes  papa,  my  love;  go  and  tell 
him  what  you  have  decided.  And  I  must  be 
busy  now." 

Mrs.  Somers  kissed  Eunice  fondly,  and  has- 


32  EUNICE  SOMEIIS. 

tened  from  the  room  ;  for  the  tears  would  start 
at  the  thought  of  so  long  a  separation  from  her 
ekle.st-born. 

The  two  days  that  followed  were  all  too 
short  for  what  was  to  be  done  in  them.  Eunice 
had  but  little  time  to  think  of  her  charming 
prospects,  amid  the  bustle  of  preparation  for 
the  long  sojourn  away  from  home. 

She  went  to  school  the  next  morning  to  ex- 
plain the  state  of  things  to  her  teacher,  and  bid 
good-bye  to  him  and  to  her  school-mates.  Mr. 
Hule,  though  sorry  to  part  with  one  of  his 
favorite  pupils,  appreciated  the  advantages  she 
expected  to  enjoy,  and  was  heartily  glad  for  her. 

"  I  shall  expect  you  to  sketch  the  old  Aca- 
demy for  me,  when  you  return,"  said  he,  "  and 
write  an  essay  in  Latin,  at  the  foot  of  your 
sketch,  upon  the  advantages  of  education !" 

The  scholars  had  an  additional  five  minutes 
of  recess  granted,  in  consideration  of  all  they 
had  to  say  in  parting  with  their  young  friend  j 
— envying  her  iiie  delightful  prospect  of  a  win- 
ter in  Holmeford,  and  protesting  how  nmcli 
they  should  miss  her. 


THE  IMPORTANT  DECISION.  33 

"  Eunie,  there  is  one  little  bit  of  work  which 
you  must  find  time  for,  before  you  go  away ;  I 
mean,  to  take  up  those  bulbs  in  the  garden ; — 
papa  is  so  busy,  since  he  has  been  feeling  bet- 
ter, that  he  will  have  no  time  to  attend  to  it, 
and  I  am  afraid  George  would  injure  them." 

"And  my  precious  mother  thinks  she  will 
have  no  time  for  gardening  when  her  '  right- 
hand  man'  is  gone!"  rejoined  Eunice,  play- 
fully. "  Well,  I  had  better  set  about  it  now, 
then  ;  but  how  warm  it  seems,  to  be  taking  up 
plants !  The  sun  is  really  hot  to-day." 

"Yes,  but  we  cannot  expect  such  weather 
many  hours  longer ;  we  may  have  a  frost  any 
day  now ; — and  we  must  not  lose  our  dahlias, 
and  other  pretty  things :  we  want  all  the 
brightness  we  can  have  about  our  little  home." 

"  It  will  always  be  bright  while  you  are  within 
it !"  said  Eunice,  giving  her  mother  a  hug,  and 
turning  a^way  to  find  her  garden-hat  with  some- 
thing like  a  tear  in  her  eye.  With  all  her 
bright  anticipations,  she  began  to  realize  that 
Bhe  should  miss  her  mother. 

She  was  very  busy,  with  her  sleeves  rolled 
3 


34  EUNICE  SOMEKS. 

up,  and  her  trowel  in  her  hand,  when  she  heard 
a  step  on  the  walk,  and  glancing  up,  saw 
Roland  "Wells  close  beside  her. 

The  home  of  the  Somers'  family  was  next  to 
the  move  pretentious  mansion  and  grounds  of 
Mr.  Wells,  and  their  pleasant  little  garden  had 
the  benefit  of  a  hedge  of  raspberry  and  other 
bushes  with  which  he  had  partly  enclosed  his 
place. 

Eunice  met  Roland's  good-humored  smile 
rather  shyly ;  she  was  conscious  of  having 
been  rather  uncharitable  in  her  feelings  towards 
him  of  late. 

"I  was  working  in  the  garden  too,"  said 
Roland,  "when  mother  called  me  to  run  over 
with  this  plate  of  wafers  for  your  mother; 
please  excuse  the  absence  of  my  jacket ;  and 
will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  carry  them  in  ?  I  am 
afraid  of  meeting  your  city  friends,  you  know !" 

Eunice  complied  with  this  request,  and  soon 
returned  with  the  plate,  and  her  mother's 
thanks. 

"Those  made  me  think  of  your  birthday 
parties,  when  you  were  a  little  fellow,  Roland; 


THE  IMPORTANT  DECISION.  35 

do  you  remember?  Your  mother  always 
baked  wafers  for  us,  because  we  children 
thought  them  so  curious,  aud  so  nice,  too !" 

"I  suppose  you  will  forget  all  about  those 
old  times  now,"  said  Roland;  "so  you  are 
really  going  to  Holmeford,  for  all  winter!" 

"I  expect  to;  wont  you  be  glad  to  have 
one  girl  less  in  the  Latin  class  ?" 

"  Why,  Eunice,  what  can  have  given  you 
that  strange  idea?  I  am  sure  I  am  glad  to 
have  any  of  the  girls  study  it,  only" — 

"  Well,  only  wluoi  T  said  Eunice,  in  a  slightly 
defiant  tone. 

"  Why,  you  know  what  you  told  me  about 
the  reasons  why  your  father  and  mother 
wanted  you  to  put  it  off;  and  I  thought  per- 
haps, if  I  were  in  your  place,  and  my  father  so 
poorly,  I  should  feel  as  if  other  duties  came 
first. 

"  But  there !  Of  course  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  girls'  work,  and  I  had  no  business 
to  give  advice.  I  don't  wonder  you  were 
vexed,  but  pray  forgive  a  fellow,  before  you  go 
away  ;  let  us  part  friends  1" 


36  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

Eunice  could  not  resist  bis  frank,  good- 
tempered  appeal;  all  her  ill-nature  melted 

away. 

"  I  don't  think  I  have  anything  to  forgive," 
she  said;  "I  suspect  I  have  been  dreadfully 
cross;  and  may-be  you  were  right  about  the 
advice. 

"  But  now  that  father  and  mother  think  best 
for  me  to  go,  and  I  am  to  have  nothing  to  do 
but  study,  you'll  wish  me  good  luck,  won't 
you  ?" 

"That  I  will,  with  all  my  heart!  I  hope 
you  will  be  ready  to  teach,  by  the  end  of  the 
winter;  and  perhaps  I  may  be  one  of  your 
scholars,  one  of  these  days  ;  wrho  knows  ?" 

"  What  nonsense  !"  responded  Eunice,  laugh- 
ing merrily.  "  But  you  know  I  do  want  to  be 
able  to  teach,  as  soon  as  I  am  old  enough,  and 
earn  money  to  help  them  all  at  home  !" 

Roland  replied  to  this  with  a  look  of  real 
sympathy,  for  he  understood  and  secretly 
admired  the  spirit  and  ambition  of  his  young 
school-mate ;  and,  with  a  hasty  shake  of  the 
hand,  they  parted  warm  friends  as  ever. 


THE  IMPORTANT  DECISION.  37 

"Wednesday  evening  had  come,  and  Mrs. 
Soiners  was  busy,  packing,  in  her  daughter's 
room. 

The  wardrobe  which  lay  around,  to  be  dis- 
posed of  in  the  trunk,  was  by  no  means  what 
young  girls  in  general  would  have  thought 
suitable  for  a  visit  to  a  large  town,  with  such 
society  as  Holmeford  boasted.  The  mother 
would  gladly  have  added  to  it ;  but  her  slender 
purse  obliged  her  to  be  content  with  her  sister's 
assurance  that  she  would  see  that  her  charge 
was  suitably  dressed. 

Little  Bess,  with  her  quick  eye,  noticed  the 
deficiency,  and  anxiously  asked  if  "  Eunie  did 
not  want  some  new  frocks,  to  go  to  Holme- 
ford?" 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  shall  get  along !"  replied 
Eunice,  cheerfully.  In  truth  she  was  not 
given  to  much  anxiety  on  the  subject  of  dress. 
As  one  of  her  }rouug  companions,  who  had  a 
girl's  usual  love  for  pretty  adomiugs,  was  wont 
to  remark  : — "  Eunice  Sotners  would  as  lief  be 
thv^od  in  a  coffee-sack,  with  two  holes  for  her 
arms,  as  any  other  way,  if  she  might  but  have 


38  EUNICE   HOMERS. 

all  the  books  slie  wanted !"  But  this  was  put- 
ting the  case  rather  strongly. 

"Can  you  make  room  for  this  old  friend, 
mother  ?"  said  Eunice,  drawing  Lucilla  forward 
upon  the  bureau. 

"  My  dear  child !  Why  should  you  want  to 
take  that  heavy  thing?  Do  you  suppose  your 
Aunt  Edith  has  no  pincushions?  Or,"  added 
her  mother,  suddenly  remembering  with  what 
care  this  relic  of  her  childhood  had  been  kept 
in  its  place, — "  or  do  you  really  love  the  old 
dollie,  yet?" 

"Well,  if  I  do,"  said  Eunice,  "it  is  quite 
time  for  me  to  put  away  such  childish  things,  I 
suppose. 

"Bess,  would  you  like  to  have  Lucilla  for 
yours,  to  keep  in  your  room  ?" 

"  Oh,  oh !"  screamed  the  child,  dancing  about 
the  floor,  "  will  you  give  her  to  me  to  keep  in 
my  room,  where  Susy  and  I  sleep  ?  I'll  love 
her  just  as  much  as  you  do,  Eunie!  — But 
you'll  miss  her,  won't  you,  sister?  'cause  you 
talk  to  her  sometimes." 

Eunice  blushed,  wondering  how  the  little  puss 


THE   IMPORTANT  DECISION.  39 

had  discovered  that  fact.  She  covered  her 
confusion  with  the  remark :  "  I  fancy  I  shall 
miss  others  at  home  besides  Lucilla !" 

Here  Qeorge  entered,  with  an  embarrassed 
look,  and  placed  a  little  paper  in  his  sister's 
haud. 

"  Will  you  take  this,  Eunice,  to  remember  me 
by  ?  It  isn't  very  nice ;  but  I  had  no  more 
money !"  And  George  made  his  exit,  speedily. 

Euuico  opened  the  paper  and  found  a  little 
emery  basket,  which  had  probably  taken  all  her 
brother's  scanty  supply  of  spending  money. 

"Isn't  that  just  like  George,  mother?"  she 
said,  regarding  the  little  gift  lovingly. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply ;  "  our  dear  old  blun- 
dering boy  has  a  warm  heart !" 

Again  Eunice's  conscience  smote  her  at  the 
recollection  of  how  much  oftener  she  had  evinced 
impatience  at  his  blunders  and  clumsiness,  than 
she  had  responded  to  his  boyish  affection. 

Presently  Ranuey  came  in,  also  with  a  parcel 
in  his  hand,  of  small  proportions,  and  curiously 
done  up. 

"  Here's  something  for  Eunice   to  take   to 


40  EUNICE   SOMEKS. 

Holmeforcl,  mother;  will  you  put  it  in  her 
trunk?" 

"  Is  it  to  remember  you  by,  Kanney  ?"  asked 
Eunice,  with  some  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child,  but  his  eyes  danced 
with  fun  and  mischief  as  he  spoke. 

"  Let  me  open  it,  mother,"  said  Eunice,  half 
suspecting  a  trick. 

"  No,  no !  Don't  open  it  till  you  get  to  Aunt 
Edith's ;  I  don't  want  you  to  !" 

"Well,  I  will  not;  mother  will  tuck  it  in  a 
safe  corner :  is  it  anything  that  will  break  ?" 

But  in  the  mean  time  the  parcel  was  opening 
itself.  The  young  rogue  had  not  securely 
adjusted  his  string,  and  after  a  little  tussle  with 
his  envelope,  out  walked  a  huge  beetle,  over 
Eunice's  clean  linen. 

"  Oh !"  screamed  Eunice,  who  had  a  great 
dislike  to  all  the  creeping  things  of  the  earth, 
"  take  the  ugly  thing  away,  quick !  Ranney 
Somers  !  are  you  trying  to  make  me  hate  you  ?" 

Ranney  was  almost  convulsed  with  merriment 
at  the  sudden  appearance  of  his  unwelcome 
gift ;  but  as  Eunice  said  this,  in  a  passionate 


THE  IMPORTANT  DECISION.  41 

tone,  lie  tried  hard  to  check  himself,  and  there 
•was  a  half  pleading,  half  frightened  look  in  his 
eyes,  as  they  met  hers,  which  the  sister  felt, 
aud  had  cause  to  remember,  afterward. 

The  little  boy  left  the  room,  carrying  his 
beetle,  and  shaking  with  laughter  still,  in  spite 
of  himself,  at  the  remembrance  of  the  fun. 

Eunice  heard  her  mother  sigh,  and  said 
petulantly,  "  It  does  seem  as  if  that  child  was 
d\v;iys  on  the  watch  to  tease  and  provoke 
me!" 

"  You  judge  him  harshly,  my  daughter ;  and 
you  have  no  patience  with  his  provoking  ways. 
He  is  full  of  life  and  mischief,  I  know,  but  he 
is  not  nearly  as  wicked  as  you  seem  to  think." 

"  Not  wicked  exactly,  mother,  but,  —  well, 
perhaps  it  is  a  good  thing  for  Rannoy  that  I 
am  going  away ! "  A  better  impulse  moved 
Eunice  to  add  :  "  I  will  try  to  be  less  easily 
provoked  when  I  come  back !  " 

The  mother  said  no  more  until  she  had  fin- 
ished packing  the  trunk,  which  was  nearly 
done. 

Then  she  left  the  room,  and  returned  in  a 


42  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

moment  with  a  little  trinket  in  her  hand ; — a 
tiny  gold  cross,  with  a  slender  elastic  cord 
attached,  which  she  put  around  her  daughter's 
neck. 

"  I  do  not  give  you  this  as  an  ornament,  my 
child ;  I  would  rather  you  would  not  wear  it  in 
sight.  But  I  want  it  to  remind  you  of  my 
parting  caution  and  advice  : 

"Kemember,  my  Eunice,  that  the  follower  of 
Christ  cannot  escape  the  cross. 

"  There  are  briers  besetting  every  path, 
That  call  for  patient  care  : 
There  is  a  cross  in  every  lot, 
And  an  earnest  need  for  prayer." 

"  Do  not  forget  your  Christian  vows,  in  your 
new  home.  Keep  your  armor  bright,  and 
watch  unto  prayer !  " 

A  loving  kiss  spoke  the  'Amen'  to  these 
words,  and  Eunice  was  left  alone,  holding  her 
mother's  gift,  and  gazing  upon  it  with  tearful 
eyes. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

£]!t:is;mt  prospects. 

1  All  that  appeared  was  suitable  to  ono 
Whose  fancy  had  a  thousand  fields  to  skim  : 
To  expectations,  spreading  with  wild  growth, 
And  hope,  that  kept  with  ma  hor  plighted  troth." 

JT  an  early  hour  on  Thursday,  our 
travellers  were  fairly  on  their  way. 
As  Eunice  bade  good-bye  to  the  dear 
onus  ut  houie,  she  realized,  as  she  had  not  done 
before,  how  much  she  should  miss  them,  and 
how  strange  it  would  seem  to  be  away  from 
them  all ;  for  this  was  to  be  her  first  long 
absence  from  home.  But  the  sadness  of  part- 
ing was  soon  forgotten  in  the  excitement  of  the 
journey,  and  bright  anticipations  of  the  plea- 
sures of  her  new  home. 

Eunice  had  never  been  a  dozen  miles  from 

(43) 


44  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

home  before,  so  that  a  journey  of  nearly  a 
hundred  miles  by  rail  was  in  itself  a  great 
pleasure ;  and  Auut  Edith  was  in  a  lively  mood, 
and  pointed  out  to  her  everything  worth  notic- 
ing by  the  way. 

Eunice  had  not  seen  her  uncle  since  she  was 
a  little  child,  and  scarcely  remembered  him  ; 
the  other  members  of  her  aunt's  household 
she  had  never  seen  ;  and,  as  she  drew  near  the 
end  of  the  journey,  she  began  to  feel  that  she 
was  to  appear  among  strangers.  She  knew 
that  Mr.  Hartwell  stood  high  in  his  profession 
as  a  lawyer,  and  held  some  public  offices  in 
Holmeford ;  and  in  this  anxious  hour  it  just 
occurred  to  her  to  wonder  whether  he  would 
quite  like  his  wife's  arrangements,  and  whether 
he  would  really  be  willing  to  give  up  a  portion 
of  his  time  to  hearing  her  recitations  ;  rather 
a  small  business  for  him,  as  she  now  fully  re- 
alized. She  was  therefore  greatly  relieved 
when,  on  reaching  her  aunt's  home,  a  tall, 
pleasant  looking  gentleman  met  them  in  the 
hall. 

"You  have  stolen  a  march  upon  me,"  said 


VSANT  PROSPECTS.  45 

lie,  greeting  his  wife;  "I  should  have  met  you 
at  the  depot,  if  you  Lad  written  that  you. 
would  come  to-day." 

Then  turning  to  Eunice,  he  added : 

"  So  this  is  our  youug  niece  ;  our  daughter 
for  this  winter !  Welcome  home,  my  dear  1 
You  aud  I  are  to  have  famous  times  in  the 
pursuit  of  knowledge,  I  expect." 

The  fatherly  kiss  which  accompanied  these 
words  made  Eunice  feel  quite  at  home,  and  at 
her  ease. 

Aunt  Edith  had  not  acted  unadvisedly  in 
her  undertaking.  Indeed,  her  first  plan  had 
been  to  seud  Eunice  to  school,  while  with 
them  ;  but  her  husband  had  suggested  that 
they  could  easily  guide  her  in  her  studies,  and 
could  more  carefully  watch  over  her  health 
under  such  an  arrangement. 

Eunice  was  just  th\)  age  of  one  of  the  two, 
their  only  children,  whom  this  uncle  and  aunt 
had  lost  by  death  a  few  years  previously. 
Doubtless,  a  thought  of  the  delight  with  which 
they  would  have  watched  over  their  own 
daughter's  pursuits,  added  tenderness  to  the 


46  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

interest  which  they  took  in  their  young  niece. 
Though  without  children  of  her  own,  Auut 
Edith  was  at  the  head  of  quite  a  household. 

Two  sisters  of  Mr.  Hartwell  were  among  its 
members;  these  claimed  to  be  introduced  to 
Eunice  as  "Aunt  Mildred,"  and  "Aunt  Dora." 

The  former  was  a  widow  lady,  considerably 
older  than  her  brother,  and  quite  an  invalid. 
"  Aunt  Dora  "  still  retained  the  name  of  Hart- 
well;  and  also,  to  some  extent,  her  youthful 
good  looks. 

Then  there  was  a  young  relative  of  Aunt 
Edith's,  and,  consequently,  a  sort  of  cousin  of 
her  own,  who  boarded  with  the  family,  enjoying 
all  the  privileges  of  a  home.  This  individual 
presented  himself  as  "  Cousin  Dick  ;"  and,  after 
dinner,  took  upon  himself  the  duty  of  amusing 
his  young  cousin  through  the  evening  ;  watch- 
ing her,  meantime,  as  Aunt  Dora  suggested, 
"  to  find  out  on  what  points  she  would  be 
most  susceptible  of  teasing." 

The  remainder  of  the  week  was  to  be  devoted 
to  getting  settled  in  the  new  home,  seeing  a 
little  of  the  town,  and  doing  some  shopping. 


PLEASANT  PB08PECT8.  47 

So  Eunice's  friends  decided  for  her,  at  break- 
fast the  next  morning.  At  the  same  time 
there  was  some  consultation  as  to  the  disposal 
of  her  time  afterward. 

Eunice  scarcely  knew  herself  in  this  novel 
position ;  the  youngest  of  a  family  circle,  and 
the  object  of  general  attention  and  solicitude ; 
she  who  from  early  childhood,  had  been  called 
upon  to  think  for  others. 

"  I  shall  be  obliged  to  appoint  your  recita- 
tion hour  with  me  directly  after  dinner,  my 
dear,"  said  her  uncle :  "  rather  late,  I  know ; 
but  of  course  you  can  prepare  your  lesson  in 
the  morning,  at  your  study  hour." 

He  then  inquired  particularly  how  far  she 
was  advanced  in  her  studies  ;  and  told  her 
auut  that  he  thought  she  had  better  study 
Algebra  also,  with  him,  as  well  as  her  much 
desired  Latin. 

Eunice's  eyes  sparkled. 

'  You  would  like  it  then,  my  dear?  Very 
well,  I  am  sure  I  shall  enjoy  teaching  such  an 
eager  pupil." 

With  her  Aunt  Edith,  Eunice  was  to  read 


48  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

history,  and  review  some  of  her  previous 
studies,  as  time  permitted. 

Mr.  Hartwell  promised  to  see  the  drawing 
teacher,  Mr.  Neville,  and  secure  a  place  for 
Eunice,  in  one  of  his  classes,  at  once. 

"  And  what  shall  /do  ?"  said  Aunt  Mildred. 
"  I  think  if  our  dear  girl  would  like  to  spend 
an  hour  occasionally  in  an  old  woman's  room, 
I  can  teach  her  something  in  nice  needle-work, 
and  fancy-work :  what  do  you  say,  my  dear  ?" 

Eunice  was  not  over  fond  of  sewing,  and  was 
no  proficient  with  her  needle.  But  conscious 
how  much  more  useful  she  might  be  at  home 
if  she  knew  a  little  more  of  this  branch  of 
feminine  work,  she  answered  : 

"  Thank  you,  Aunt  Mildred  ;  I  am  afraid  yon. 
will  find  me  a  very  dull  scholar  in  that  line, 
but  I  should  like  to  learn  to  sew  neatly,  if  you 
will  take  the  trouble  to  teach  me." 

The  reply,  which  was  quite  sincere,  gratified 
Mrs.  Ellett,  very  much. 

"And  I  think,"  she  continued,  "I  shall  claim 
you  as  my  companion  when  I  ride  out;  this 
will  relieve  sister  Dora,  when  she  does  not  care 


PLEASANT  PROSPECTS.  49 

to  go ;  and  I  can  make  the  drives  pleasant  for 
you,  I  hope,  though  I  am  not  able  to  go  very  far." 

Eunice  was  not  obliged  to  reason  herself 
into  accepting  this  proposition  with  thanks. 

"  I  don't  see  as  there  is  anything  that  I  can 
do  in  behalf  of  my  cousin,"  said  Dick  ;  "  unless 
I  can  tease  her  a  little,  by  way  of  keeping  her 
awake  in  the  evenings  ;  or  unless  she  will  show 
herself  at  '  Putnam  &  Mills '  establishment ; 
where  I  shall  be  happy  to  wait  upon  her ! 

"And  where  I  ought  to  be  at  this  present 
moment,"  he  added,  glancing  at  his  watch,  and 
springing  from  his  seat. 

"  I  thought  you  were  feeling  more  at  leisure 
than  usual,"  said  Aunt  Edith,  laughing.  "  If 
you  go  to  the  store  now,  like  a  good  boy, 
you  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  waiting  upon 
your  young  cousin,  in  the  course  of  the  morning." 

As  to  Aunt  Dora,  she  had  already  assigned 
herself  her  part,  in  private  council  with  her 
sister-in-law ;  and  she  began  operations  ener- 
getically that  very  morning,  in  order,  as  she 
said,  "  to  make  the  dear  child  presentable 

before  Sunday." 

4 


50  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

Little  as  Eunice  cared  about  dress,  in  gene- 
ral, she  was  delighted  with  the  novelty  of  the 
shopping  expedition ;  and  could  not  help  feel- 
ing some  interest  in  the  progress  of  the  pretty 
street-suit,  which  was  cut  and  fitted,  before 
they  returned  home,  and  to  which  .^.unt  Dora 
and  Aunt  Edith  devoted  their  afternoon. 

Eunice  wished  to  help  ;  but  as  it  was  a  very 
pleasant  afternoon,  Mrs.  Ellett  was  going  out 
for  a  drive,  and  claimed  her  promised  company 
when  the  carriage  appeared.  Then,  when  she 
returned,  there  was  the  pleasant  duty  of  writing 
home,  to  be  performed. 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  am  so  happy !"  This  was 
the  commencement  of  her  letter.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  glowing  account  of  the  journey ; 
of  the  kindness  of  her  Uncle  Eansom,  and  of 
his  sisters.  "  And  Cousin  Dick,  as  he  says  I 
am  to  call  him :  Aunt  Edith  says  you  will 
know  who  he  is,  though  I  did  not ;— he  is  real 
kind,  too ;  and  so  funny !" 

Then  came  a  description  of  the  wonders  of 
the  town,  so  far  as  they  had  come  under  the 
writer's  observation:  and  after  affectionate 


PLEASANT  PROSPECTS.  51 

messages  to  all  at  home,  Eunice  added  this 
postscript,  at  the  bottom  of  the  letter:  "I  do 
not  see  where  the  cross  can  be,  dear  mother  j 
but  I  will  try  not  to  forget  what  you  said." 

Another  rather  exciting  day,  among  these 
new  scenes,  and  new  friends ;  and  then  came 
the  day  of  rest  once  more. 

It  seemed  to  Eunice  as  if  at  least  a  month 
had  passed  since  she  sat  in  her  little  room  at 
home,  studying  the  Collect,  on  the  morniug  of 
the  lust  Lord's  Day. 

Arrayed  in  her  new  suit,  which  Miss  Dora 
had  exerted  herself  to  finish ;  and  having  under- 
gone the  inspection  of  that  lady,  and  received 
a  kiss,  and  the  sentence :  "  You  will  do  nicely !" 
Eunice  escaped  to  her  own  room  to  avoid  the 
bantering  of  her  Cousin  Dick,  and  collect  her 
thoughts  before  going  to  the  house  of  God. 
From  habit  she  opened  her  Prayer-book,  and 
read  over  the  Collect  and  Epistle  for  the  day  ; 
although  she  would  be  missed  from  the  class  at 
the  dear  church  at  home.  From  habit,  also, 
and  a  blessed  habit  this, — she  strove  to  fix  in 
her  mind  the  importance  of  the  words  she  read  : 


62  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"And  serve  Thee  with  a  quiet  mind." 

Eunice  felt  conscious  that  this  did  not 
describe  her  service  of  the  Master,  during  the 
past  few  da}rs ;  had  she,  indeed,  thought  much 
of  serving  Him  ?  Had  not  her  mind  and 
heart  been  quite  occupied  with  herself, — and 
her  new  pleasures  ?  With  a  penitent  heart 
she  whispered  again  the  words  of  the  Collect. 

Then  came  the  Epistle ;  and  as  she  glanced 
over  it,  Eunice  drew  forth  the  little  cross  from 
its  concealment,  and  kissed  it;  murmuring, 
"  Dear  mother !" 

For  here  was  the  full  description  of  that 
armor  which  she  was  charged  to  keep  bright ; 
and  her  mother's  very  expression  :  "  Watching 
unto  prayer."  Beading  it  over  thoughtfully, 
Eunice  wished  she  could  recall  the  postscript  to 
her  letter,  written  the  day  after  her  arrival ; 
how  childish  it  seemed  to  her,  now. 

For  she  felt  truly  that  she  might  find  her 
cross  in  the  conflict  with  spiritual  foes,  while 
trying  to  keep  her  heart  right  with  Gotl,  as 
much  when  all  without  was  bright  and  smooth, 
as  when  "flesh  and  blood "  hindered  her  in  the . 


PLEASANT  PROSPECTS.  53 

Christian  course.  A  few  moments  spent  in 
prayer,  and  then  the  sound  of  church-going 
bells  was  heard. 

Eunice  walked  with  her  Cousin  Dick,  on  the 
way  to  church.  The  latter  was  but  little 
accustomed  to  curb  his  mirthful  spirits,  from 
respect  to  the  holy  day :  yet  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  manner  of  the  young  girl  by  his 
side  which  restrained  the  playful  jest,  more 
than  once,  when  on  his  lips :  was  it  the  gleam 
of  the  Christian  armor,  burnished  by  those 
few  moments  of  real  devotion,  which  checked 
the  careless  youth  ?  If  so,  Eunice  was  uncon- 
scious of  the  influence  she  was  exerting.  A 
real  home  feeling  came  over  her,  as  the 
service  began,  soon  after  they  had  taken  their 
places  in  church,  and  she  remembered  that  at 
the  same  hour  the  dear  ones  at  home  were 
listening  to  the  same  words. 

When  services  were  over  for  the  day,  her 
uncle,  who  had  observed  with  pleasure  her 
serious  deportment,  lent  her  an  interesting  and 
profitable  book  to  read ;  and  so  pleasantly 
passed  the  first  Sunday  away  from  home. 


CHAPTEK    V.   , 


opts 


"  Beware,  beware ! 
There's  hidden  danger  lurking  round, 

In  those  great  books,  that  easy  chair, 
This  pleasant  room,  that  garden  ground 

In  the  pure,  cultivated  life 
Which  seems  all  duty,  yet  may  be 

But  a  fair  fence  to  keep  the  strife 
Of  a  rude  world  from  vexing  thee  1" 


RS.  HAETWELL  proposed  a  longer 
vacation  to  her  niece,  but  was  amus- 
ed by  the  eagerness  with  which  she 
begged  to  begin  her  studies  at  once. 

There  was  a  pleasant  library,  opening  from 
the  parlor  ;  Mr.  Hartwell's  stud}T,  when  he  had 
occasion  for  such  a  room  at  home,  but  his  office 
up-town  generally  monopolized  him,  except  in 
the  hours  of  relaxation. 

In  this  pleasant  room  Eunice  was  to  study, 

(54) 


HOPES  FULFILLED.  55 

to  her  heart's  content,  with  none  to  disturb 
her. 

Her  uncle  laughingly  deposited  her  in  his 
own  arm-chair,  before  leaving  for  his  office  ou 
Monday  morning,  telling  her  he  should  "  expect 
her  to  justify  her  claim  to  such  an  honorable 
situation." 

Eunice  found  the  studies  very  pleasant ; 
difficulties  vanished  before  her  uncle's  lucid 
explanations,  at  that  delightful  recitation  hour, 
after  dinner ;  and  she  could  perceive  that  she 
was  in  a  fair  way  to  make  rapid  progress. 

The  chief  trouble  her  aunt  encountered  was 
in  making  her  leave  off  at  the  proper  time,  and 
take  necessary  exercise  and  recreation.  She 
was  obliged  to  go  in  and  "  stir  up  her  nest,"  as 
she  expressed  it,  very  determinedly,  morning 
after  morning. 

"Just  this  one  example  more,  ^please, 
Auntie !  "  Eunice  would  plead ;  or,  "  Do  let 
me  go  over  this  verb  once  more,  to  make  sure  of 
it  for  uncle ! " 

At  length  her  friends  were  obliged  to  limit 
the  hours  of  study,  strictly  ;  forbidding  Eunice 


56  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

to  study  more  than  four  Lours  a  clay.  Tins  her 
uncle  declared  was  quite  enough  for  such  a 
pale-faced  little  body. 

The  drawing  lessons  began  before  the  first 
week  closed,  and  Eunice  was  perfectly  charmed 
with  this  new  pursuit. 

Mr.  Neville  was  equally  delighted  with  his 
pupil,  declaring  to  Mr.  Hartwell,  after  Eunice 
had  taken  a  few  lessons,  that  she  was  "  a  born 
artist,"  and  that  "it  would  have  been  a  sin  to 
neglect  such  talent." 

It  needed  an  occasional  mild  reminder  from 
Mrs.  Ellett,  to  keep  Eunice  from  neglecting  the 
sewing  lessons,  which  were  excused  entirely  on 
the  two  "  drawing  days  "  of  the  week. 

Yet  this  hour  was  usually  a  very  pleasant  one, 
spent  in  the  gentle  old  lady's  room  ;  and  Eunice 
really  felt  grateful  to  her  for  the  exceeding 
pains  she  took  to  make  her  an  accomplished 
needle-woman. 

She  did  not  fail  to  inform  her  mother  of  this, 
among  her  other  advantages,  in  the  frequent 
letters  which  were  sent  on  their  way  to  the 
quiet  little  home,  in  Mansfield. 


HOPES  FULFILLED.  57 

LETTER  FROM  MRS.  SOMERS  TO  EUNICE. 

MASBITELD,  Nov.  20,  —— . 

"  My  Beloved  Daughter :  t 

"Another  of  your  bright,  happy  letters  has 
just  arrived,  aud  been  eagerly  read ;  would  you 
like  to  hear  the  comments  of  each  of  the  house- 
hold? 

"  '  Father'  read,  with  a  smile  all  over  his  face, 
and  laid  the  letter  down  with  the  words: 
'  Blessings  on  the  child !  I  am  thankful  she  is 
doing  so  well !' 

"  Then  George :  <  My !  How  jolly  !  I  wish  I 
could  see  that  panorama ! ' 

"  Eanney  heard  you  through,  and  mused  :  '  I 
wonder  if  she'd  let  me  go  to  ride  with  her,  in 
that  nice  carriage,  if  I  were  there  !' 

"  Truth  compels  me  to  add  that  this  was  said 
in  a  tone  of  doubt. 

"Bessie  says,  characteristically,  'Oh  how  I 
wish  I  could  see  Euuie  in  that  pretty  hat,  and 
nice  new  suit !  I  know  she  looks  just  as  pretty!' 

"I  tell  you  this  with  not  much  fear  of  arousing 
your  vanity,  or  of  sending  you  to  the  looking- 
glass,  to  verify  Bessie's  fond  assertion. 


58  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"Little  Sue  says'  wonderingly,  '"Where  is 
Eunie  ?  How  can  slie  speak  in  clis  paper  ?' 

"And  Baby  repeats  your  name  from  the  lips  of 
the  others,  lovingly,  as  if  he  remembered  you. 

"Then  Roland  came  in,  and  the  letter  was 
read  to  him  ;  for  which  we  received  his  thanks, 
and  the  remark :  '  I  am  so  glad  Eunice  is  so 
happy,  and  has  such  a  nice  chance  to  get  on  !' 

"'And  what  did  mother  say?'  you  ask.  No- 
thing, audibly ;  but  she  said  something,  down 
deep  in  her  heart ;  and  it  was  an  earnest  prayer 
that  our  God  will  have  my  child  in  His  holy 
keeping;  making  these  precious  opportunities 
a  real  blessing  to  her,  and  enabling  her  to 
consecrate  all  her  talents  to  His  service ! 

"Remember,  my  dear  child,  I  pray  you,  that 
you  have  need  to  be  watchful ;  your  enemies 
do  not  sleep,  though  all  seems  bright  and 
calm. 

"  Remember  and  use  the  prayer  of  our  Litany : 
'In  all  time  of  our  prosperity,  Good  Lord, 
deliver  us! ' 

"  Do  not  feel  anxious  about  me,  dear.  My 
strength  has  held  out  wonderfully,  and  papa  ia 


HOPES  FULFILLED.  59 

unusually  well,  for  him,  which  makes  all  things 
lighter. 

"  I  miss  you,  of  course  ;  but  I  am  very  glad  to 
spare  you  to  such  advantages  as  you  are  enjoy- 
ing. 

"  Tell  dear  Aunt  Edith,  and  your  kind  uncle, 
and  other  friends,  that  I  thank  them,  continually, 
for  their  kindness  to  you. 

"  A  most  loving  good-night,  from 

"Youn  MOTHER." 

Such  letters  as  this  the  busy  burdened  mother 
found  time  to  write  frequently ;  and  they  were, 
as  Eunice  expressed  it,  "like  ballast  to  the 
ship ;" — the  little  oraft  which  was  scudding 
onward  so  gayly  before  helpful  breezes. 

Ballast  of  some  sort  was  needed,  to  keep  the 
head  and  heart  in  the  right  place,  in  this  novel 
and  charming  state  of  things. 

"  Miss  Somers,  this  will  be  quite  enough  of 
this  preliminary  work ;  I  will  have  you  begin 
studying  from  casts,  with  the  next  lesson,  if 
you  please." 


60  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

A  bright  smile  answering  him  to  liis  satis- 
faction, Mr.  Neville  went  on  : 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  lend  you  casts  to  study 
at  home,  if  you  choose  :  as  you  tell  me  you  have 
only  this  winter  to  spend  here,  we  must  be 
getting  on  as  fast  as  we  can." 

This  proposal  of  her  drawing-teacher  gave 
Eunice  a  delightful  excuse  for  spending  an  hour 
or  two  more  each  day  in  the  library. 

The  circle  whose  solicitude  centered  about 
the  gentle  intelligent  girl,  began  to  devise  new 
ways  and  means  to  tempt  her  out  more,  for 
exercise  and  diversion. 

"  I  Avish  she  had  some  young  companions," 
said  Miss  Dora  ;  "it  cannot  be  very  interesting 
for  her  to  go  about  with  us  old  folks !" 

"  Humph  !"  ejaculated  Dick,  who  happened  to 
be  in  the  room,  awaiting  his  dinner. 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  North  !  You 
are  young  and  lively  enough,  certainly,  if  you 
choose  to  devote  yourself  to  the  entertainment 
of  so  young  a  damsel ;  but  then,  you  know,  you 
are  not  at  home,  except  occasionally  in  the 
evenings." 


HOPES  FULFILLED.  61 

"  The  eldest  of  the  Menitt  children  is  about 
Eunice's  age ;"  suggested  Mrs.  Hurtwell ;  "  and 
there  are  the  Hill  girls,  we  might  invite  them 
here  to  get  acquainted." 

"  Now,  my  respected  cousin,  you  surprise  me 
by  your  want  of  discrimination !"  quoth  Dick. 
"  Whatever  the  age  of  the  Merritt  girl,  she  is 
a  mere  child  to  Eunice,  in  her  tastes  and  ways  ; 
and  those  young  Hills,  with  their  silly  prattle 
and  giggle ; — pray  don't  bore  the  poor  child  by 
associating  her  with  them !  They  are  as  unlike 
her  as  possible." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Miss  Dora ;  "  if  Eunice 
were  to  grow  up  in  this  place,  I  suppose  it 
would  be  her  duty  to  cultivate  the  society  of 
young  people  of  her  own  age,  and  do  her  part 
towards  improving  it ;  but  as  she  is  only  here 
for  a  time,  we  need  not  take  pains  to  introduce 
her  to  such  as  would  be  distasteful." 

"I  believe  I  will  speak  to  Frances  Lynde, 
and  ask  leave  to  introduce  Eunice  to  her,"  said 
Dick. 

"  Miss  Lynde  !  Why  Dick,  you  are  quite  as 
far  out  of  the  way  as  I  was,  in  another  direction," 


62  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

said  Miss  Hartwell ;  "  Miss  Lynde  is  a  young 
lady  in  society  ;  rather  beyond  a  school-girl  of 
fourteen." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  "  but  she  has  a  very  win- 
ning way  with  younger  girls ;  there  is  a  set  of 
them  who  think  all  the  world  of  her ;  she  has 
them  in  a  sort  of  Bible  class,  I  believe.  And 
she  would  be  interested  in  Eunice,  I  know  ;  at 
any  rate,  she  would  take  pains  to  gratify  her  if 
I  asked  the  favor ;  you  know  she  is  a  sort  of 
cousin  of  mine,  on  the  other  side !"  supple- 
mented Dick,  noticing  the  mischievous  glances 
exchanged  by  the  ladies. 

"  Very  well ;  I  wish  you  success  in  bringing 
about  the  acquaintance ;"  said  Mrs.  Hartwell ; 
"  I  am  sure  it  would  be  a  very  pleasant  one  for 
Eunice !" 

"My  good  cousin,"  said  Dick  Ncfrth,  at 
dinner,  a  few  evenings  after,  "  I  bespeak  the 
pleasure  of  your  company  for  this  evening,  if 
you  are  not  otherwise  engaged ;  I  have  promised 
my  friend,  Miss  Lynde,  to  take  you  around  to 
spend  an  evening  with  her,  at  some  time ;  and 


HOPES  FULFILLED.  63 

this  will  be  a  glorious  evening  for  the  walk: 
what  say  you  ?" 

"  Do  you  mean  the  Miss  Lynde  who  sings  in 
the  choir,  and  teaches  in  the  Sunday-school,  at 
St.  James'  ?"  asked  Eunice. 

"  And  is  foremost  in  every  other  good  and 
pious  work !  Yes ;  the  very  same ;  do  you 
know  her  already  ?" 

"  No,  except  by  her  sweet  face ;  but  I  should 
so  like  to  hear  her  speak  !" 

"  Very  well ;  go  with  me,  and  we  will  hope  to 
persuade  her  to  afford  you  that  gratification  !" 
said  Dick,  laughingly,  with  a  side  glance  at 
Mrs  Hartwell. 

"Am  I  to  excuse  the  recitation  this  even- 
ing ?"  asked  Mr.  Hartwell. 

"  Oh,  uncle !  no,  indeed !  That  is,  not  if 
cousin  Dick  will  wait  for  me ;  I  should  be  soVry 
to  lose  my  lessons !" 

"  Oh,  I  will  wait,  by  all  means ;  I  am  quite 
at  your  service,  Miss  Eunice  !" 

Eunice  hardly  knew  whether  to  feel  teased 
.or  obliged  by  his  deference.  But  she  had  fully 
decided,  by  the  end  of  the  evening ;  which,  as 


64  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

she  told  her  aunt,  was  "one  of  the  pleasantest 
she  ever  spent  in  her  life  !" 

Frances  Lynde  was  really  as  lovely  in  char- 
acter as  Eunice  had  fancied  her.  She  was 
highly  accomplished,  too  ;  and  played  and  sang 
for  her  guests,  to  the  great  delight  of  both. 

On  her  part,  she  was  very  much  pleased  with 
Eunice, — "Took  to  her  at  once,"  as  Dick  ex- 
pressed it,  and  seemed  to  find  much  pleasure 
in  drawing  her  out  of  her  reserve.  Some  allu- 
sion was  made  to  the  Sunday-school : 

"  Your  scholars  are  about  my  age,  are  they 
not,  Miss  Lynde  ?"  Eunice  asked. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  that  is  the  first  and 
only  class  I  ever  taught.  They  were  little 
girls  when  I  began,  three  years  ago,  but  they 
have  grown  up,  suddenly,  on  my  hands. 

"  I  have  felt  as  if  they  ought  to  be  in  the 
Bible  Class,  or,  at  least,  have  a  more  experi- 
enced teacher  ;  but  they  do  not  want  to  leave 
me,  and  Mr.  Robertson  says  I  must  keep  the 
class,  by  all  means,  and  adapt  their  studies  to 
their  capacity." 

As  Eunice  still  kept  her  eyes  upon  her  face, 


HOPES  FULFILLED.  65 

with  an  asking  look,  Miss  Lynde  added, 
"  How  would  you  like  to  join  my  girte  ;  as  you 
and  I  are  determined  to  be  good  friends  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  to  so  much ! "  replied 
Eunice  ;  "  I  miss  the  Sunday-school ;  but  I  did 
not  know  as  it  would  be  best  for  me  to  join  a 
class,  only  for  the  winter ;  and  then,  I  didn't  care 
so  much  about  it,  among  strangers,  you  know." 

"  Well  then,  I  shall  look  for  you  on  Sunday ;" 
returned  Miss  Lynde ;  "  and,  by  the  way,  I 
know  you  love  flowers ;  Low  would  you  like  to 
walk  out  with  me,  to-morrow?  I  have  an 
errand  to  one  of  our  largest  green-houses.  You 
do  not  study  on  Saturday,  do  you  ?  " 

"Indeed,  Frances,  it  is  my  belief  that  she 
would  study,  or  draw,  every  day  and  every 
night,  if  allowed.  But  I  know  her  aunt  will 
give  you  full  license  to  drag  her  out-doors 
whenever  you  can." 

"  Then  I  shall  certainly  call  for  you,  at  two," 
said  Miss  Lynde,  merrily ;  "  and  you  must  be 
sure  to  wear  clogs,  or  over-shoes,  or  something 
to  protect  your  feet ;  for  we  go  off  the  sidewalks 

to  reach  Kelly's." 

5 


66  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"  I  will,"  said  Eunice  ;  "  I  am  used  to  walk- 
ing in  the  country,  you  must  remembe.i:." 

This  allusion  brought  up  the  subject  oi 
Eunice's  home,  about  which  her  new  friend 
asked  questions  with  so  much  interest,  that 
Eunice  found  herself  telling  '  all  about '  each  of 
the  children,  as  to  one  who  was  far  from  being 
a  stranger. 

"  That  dear  little  Ranney  !"  exclaimed 
Frances  :  "  your  uncle's  namesake,  I  suppose  ? 
— I  should  like  to  see  him  !  I  had  just  such  a 
little  brother  once  ;  as  full  of  life  and  fun  as  he 
could  be!  It  was  so  amusing  to  watch  his 
pranks,  they  seemed  to  be  just  the  overflowing 
of  health  and  spirits !  You  can  imagine  how 
we  missed  him,  when  he  was  taken  away,  can 
you  not?" 

Eunice  assented ;  wondering  to  herself  if 
Miss  Frances  was  ever  so  impatient  with  her 
darling  little  brother,  as  she  had  been  with 
Banney. 

The  next  day  was  pleasant,  and  the  walk  to 
the  greenhouse  was  accomplished,  Eunice  be- 


HOPES  FULFILLED.  67 

coming  more  and  more  charmed  with  her  new 
friend.  - 

I  wish  our  young  ladies  knew  how  much 
good  they  might  do,  and  what  warmly  attached 
and  grateful  life-friends  they  might  often  make, 
by  a  friendly  notice  of  girls,  perhaps  five  or  six 
years  younger  than  themselves. 

Frances  Lynde  was  like  an  elder  sister  to 
the  girls  of  her  class  in  Sunday-school ;  and 
Eunice  felt  that  she  could  well  understand  the 
glances  of  admiring  love  which  greeted  her,  as 
she  took  her  place  among  them. 

Some  of  the  members  of  this  class  were  very 
interesting  girls ;  they  gave  Eunice  a  cordial 
welcome,  by  their  manner;  and  promised  to 
prove  very  pleasant  acquaintances  for  her. 

The  subject  of  the  lesson  for  the  class  was  a 
familiar  one  to  Eunice ;  the  Collect,  Epistle  and 
Gospel  for  the  day ;  the  same  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  she  was  accustomed  to  prepare  at 
home. 

Miss  Lynde  studied  the  lesson  diligently  her- 
ivh',  before  she  appeared  among  her  young 
Bisters  in  the  faith,  as  their  instructress. 


68  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

The  Sunday  on  which  Eunice  joined  the 
class  was  the  Second  in  Advent,  so  that  the 
special  topic  of  the  day's  lesson  was  the  study 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

Very  earnestly  did  the  young  teacher  seek  to 
press  home  this  subject,  to  the  members  of  her 
class. 

"  Let  each  of  us  ask  herself,  dear  girls, 
whether  we  do  '  in  such  wise,  hear,  read,  mark, 
and  learn'  the  Scriptures  of  truth?  Nothing 
else  can  nourish  our  souls ;  all  the  choicest 
learning  of  this  world  is  as  '  chaff  to  the  wheat,' 
compared  with  the  Word  of  God. 

"  I  want  to  be  very  earnest  on  this  point, 
because  I  know  you  all  go  to  school,  or  are 
engaged  in  various  studies  ;  and  you  are  sur- 
rounded, at  other  hours,  by  attractive  and 
interesting  books ;  and  there  is  much  danger 
lest  you  be  tempted  to  feed  your  minds  upon 
these  entirely,  and  so  neglect  to  feed  upon 
and  inwardly  digest  the  words  of  eternal 
life." 

"  Does  she  mean  that  for  me  alone  ?" 
thought  Eunice;  "how  could  bhe  know  now 


HOPES  FULFILLED.  69 

many  times  I  have  forgotten  to  read  my 
Bible  ?" 

Miss  Lynde  did  not  know,  of  course ;  nor  did 
she  meau  to  apply  her  words  to  Eunice,  more 
than  to  the  others ;  except  that  in  the  moment 
of  speaking  she  remembered  how  Dick  had 
described  her  eager  application  to  study. 

But  her  words  were  well-timed ;  and  sank 
into  the  heart  of  one  of  her  hearers,  at  least. 

Some  of  Miss  Lynde's  scholars  called  to  see 
Eunice,  during  the  week,  and  invited  her  to 
visit  them. 

One  sentiment  they  had  in  common,  which 
gave  them  the  aid  of  something  to  talk  about, 
in  getting  acquainted ;  that  was  their  admira- 
tion for  Miss  Lynde. 

The  girls  seemed  to  feel  themselves  bound 
to  enlighten  the  new-comer  respecting  the 
praiseworthy  qualities  of  their  friend  and 
teacher,  but  Eunice  secretly  felt  quite  sure  that 
they  did  not  appreciate  and  love  her  as  she  did 
already ! 

One  of  these  callers  was  the  very  Rhoda 
Merritt,  whom  the  ladies  of  the  family  had 


70  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

passed  over  as  too  childish  to  be  a  companion 
for  Euuice.  She  was  backward,  in  some  re- 
spects, and  very  shy.  But  she  seemed  to  take 
a  great  fancy  to  Euuice,  and  evidently  wished 
to  attach  herself  to  her  as  a  friend. 

Eunice  did  not  at  first  reciprocate  this  feeling, 
and  was  rather  disposed  to  repulse  Rhoda's 
advances.  A  thought  of  the  way  in  which 
Frances  Lynde  had  treated  her,  checked  this 
impulse,  and  moved  her  to  respond  cordially  to 
Rhoda's  urgent  request  that  she  would  "  come 
to  see  her,  very  soon,  and  spend  the  afternoon." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Ifappn   Christmas. 


"  Now  to  the  Lord  sing  praises, 
All  you  within  this  place  ; 
And  with  true  lovo  and  brotherhood 
Each  other  now  embrace. 
This  holy  tide  of  Christina* 
All  others  doth  doftice." 


was  near;  and  Eunice 
had  now  no  lack  of  enticements  to 
win  her  from  too  close  study. 
The  parish  of  St.   James  was  a  small  one 
struggling  to  grow  with  the  growth  of  popula- 
tion, in  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 

There  were  two  other  churches,  within  reason- 
able distance,  which  would  have  afforded  Mr. 
Hartwell's  family  the  advantages  only  to  be 
enjoyed  in  communion  with  an  old,  firmly 
established  parish  ;  but,  knowing  that  the  new 
church  was  much  needed  in  the  neighborhood, 

(71) 


„    72  EUNICE  SOMEBS. 

they  had  deemed  it  their  duty  to  cast  in  their 
lot  with  the  young  parish,  and  give  it  their  help 
and  support. 

As  Christmas  approached,  the  few  workers 
of  St.  James'  found  their  hands  full ;  and 
Eunice  could  not  but  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
her  Aunt  Edith,  and  Miss  Dora,  who  were 
among  the  most  active  in  preparing  for  the 
Christmas  Tree  for  the  children,  and  in  decorat- 
ing the  church. 

Perhnps  the  meetings  for  work  were  more 
attractive  to  Eunice  from  the  fact  that  her 
friend  Miss  Lynde  was  always  present. 

The  Lyndes  had  joined  themselves  to  St. 
James'  from  the  same  motives  which  influenced 
the  Hartwells ;  and  Frances,  with  her  rich 
voice,  her  fine  taste,  and  her  true  devotion, 
was  a  treasure  to  the  pastor ;  a  real  helper  in 
his  work. 

Eunice  had  another  delightful  occupation, 
during  these  weeks  of  Advent.  Mrs.  Elletfc 
proposed  that  she  should  make  up  a  Christmas 
box  to  send  home. 

The  good  lady  had  a  double  motive  in  this 


HAITI  CHRISTMAS.  73 

proposition :  the  wish  to  keep  up  the  interest 
of  her  pupil  in  sewing ;  and  a  desire  to  reach, 
in  this  delicate  wa}%  and  minister  to  the  needy 
family,  of  whose  real  situation  she  had  learned 
a  good  deal  in  her  talks  with  Eunice  ;  drawing 
her  own  inferences,  for  the  girl  had  quite  too 
much  of  her  father  and  mother's  spirit,  to 
complain,  or  consciously  acknowledge  their 
poverty. 

"Now  Eunice,  dear;  let  us  put  our  heads 
together,  and  see  how  many  nice  useful  little 
things  we  can  get  into  your  box,  before  it  must 
be  sent  off. 

"  I  will  find  you  materials  for  your  work ; 
but  the  children,  and  your  mother  too,  will  think 
so  much  more  of  anything  you  make  for  them 
yourself." 

Eunice  was  delighted  with  the  plan.  There 
was  no  difficulty  in  thinking  of  any  number  of 
articles  which  were  just  what  the  children 
wanted  ;  and  Mrs.  Ellett  had  a  good  excuse  for 
asking  questions  now. 

Aunt  Dora  was  commissioned  to  do  the 
shopping,  and  she  did  not  ask  Eunice's  com- 


74  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

pany,  this  time.  Mrs.  Ellett  did  not  wish  her 
to  know  the  cost  of  the  materials  which  were 
to  be  laid  to  her  hand.  The  good  lady  had 
means  of  her  OWD,  aud  nothing  delighted  her 
more  than  such  an  opportunity  as  this  of 
employing  her  peculiar  talents,  and  her  money, 
for  the  benefit  of  others. 

"  Now  if  we  only  knew  just  the  sizes  we  want !" 
cried  Aunt  Dora,  when  the  purchases  were 
brought  home,  and  spread  upon  Aunt  Mildred's 
bed. 

But  this  difficulty  was  easily  met :  Bhoda 
Merritt  had  two  little  sisters,  just  the  age,  and, 
as  Eunice  felt  sure,  just  the  size  of  Bess  and 
Susy,  and  the  dimensions  of  apron  and  frock 
patterns  were  obtained  from  them. 

Aunt  Dora  did  the  cutting  and  fitting ;  as 
she  declared  nobody  in  that  house  had  a  right 
to  "flourish  the  shears"  but  herself  ! 

Aunt  Edith's  machine  lightened  the  work 
considerably ;  and  in  various  ways  her  kind 
friends  managed  that  Eunice  should  not  be 
overtasked  in  carrying  out  her  scheme ;  whilo 
yet  the  putting  together,  and  finishing  of  each 


HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  75 

article  was  clone*  by  herself.  The  girl's  heart 
throbbed  with  grateful  appreciation  of  all  this 
kindness,  which  she  valued  far  more  than  if 
the  same  amount  of  labor  and  expenditure  had 
been  bestowed  upon  herself. 

"  Eunice,"  said  her  uncle,  one  day,  while  the 
box  was  under  consideration,  "  I  must  add  some 
toys,  and  such  like,  as  my  contribution  to  that 
box ;  and  I  commission  you  to  select  them  for 
me ;  you  will  know  best  how  to  please  the  young 
folks."  And  he  placed  a  ten-dollar  bill  in  her 
hand. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Ransom  !  you  are  so  kind  !"  cried 
Eunice.  This  was  just  what  she  was  secretly 
wishing  for  ;  just  afeio  playthings,  to  make  the 
e}~es  of  the  little  ones  dance.  "  But  this  is  too 
much  for  toys,  isn't  it  ?"  she  said ;  examining 
the  bill  with  surprise. 

"  Oh,  I  will  trust  you  to  make  very  wise 
selections;  consider  it  as  your  own  spending 
money,  daughter ;  and  use  it  as  you  please  ; 
you  will  not  find  it  any  too  much,  I  assure  you !" 

"  But  you  needn't  buy  a  doll  for  Bess  ;  that 
is  my  special  look  out,"  said  her  Aunt  Edith. 


76  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

Three  days  before  Christmas,  in  time  to  be 
sure  that  the  box  should  reach  its  destination, 
by  express,  there  was  a  grand  packing  in  Aunt 
Mildred's  room  ; — it  was  done  there  because  the 
invalid  was  not  able  to  leave  her  room,  being 
more  poorly  than  usual;  and  she  was  as  much 
interested  as  Eunice  in  the  business. 

"  It  was  as  good  as  a  medicine,"  Aunt  Mildred 
declared,  "  to  watch  the  happy  face,  beaming 
over  the  box." 

There  were  some  warm  and  pretty  flannel 
shirts  for  George  ;  Eunice  remembered  that  her 
mother  had  his  old  ones  in  her  mending  basket, 
when  she  came  away,  to  be  patched  up,  and 
the  sleeves  elongated,  for  another  winter. 
There  was  a  nice  overcoat  for  Ranney ;  and  a 
warm  bright  comforter  for  each  of  the  boys, 
which  Aunt  Mildred  knit  herself.  Then  there  was 
the  prettiest  little  dress,  with  sacque  of  the  same, 
of  soft  plaid,  for  each,  of  the  dear  little  girls ; 
and  some  nice  aprons,  neatly  made  and  trimmed, 
and  some  new  warm  flannel  garments,  for  little 
Walter;  Eunice  smiled  as  the  doubt  crossed 
her  mind  whether  he  had  ever  worn  any  new 


HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  77 

flannel,  so  far,  in  his  little  life!  The  grandest 
gift  of  all  was  a  nice  comfortable  dressing-gown 
for  her  father. 

Eunice  knew  well  how  much  her  mother 
wished  to  replace  the  old  one,  which  had  been 
a  great  comfort  to  him,  but  was  quite  worn  out. 
She  patted  each  fold,  as  she  prepared  to  lay  it 
in  the  box,  in  a  loving  satisfied  way,  which  fully 
repaid  Aunt  Mildred  for  her  part  of  the  gift. 

Surely  the  mother  was  not  forgotten  ?  No  : 
but  Eunice  had  been  more  puzzled  to  decide 
for  her  than  for  the  others.  She  knew  of 
enough  that  was  needed,  but  the  articles  beiug 
all  rather  large,  Eunice  did  not  like  to  speak  of 
them,  and  Mrs.  Ellett  did  not  seem  inclined  to 
urge  her. 

She  would  gladly  have  taken  the  best  part  of 
the  ten  dollars  for  this  gift;  but  that  would 
hardly  be  right,  she  thought,  as  her  uncle 
designed  it  for  the  children. 

So,  reflecting  that  her  mother  would  enjoy 
each  of  the  other  gifts  more  than  if  it  were 
for  herself  alone,  Eunice  was  obliged  to  be 
satisfied  with  making  up  a  little  box  of  '  medleys' 


78  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

for  her  darling  mother,  two  neat  little  collars, 
which  she  had  made  herself,  lying  on  top.  She 
had  written  a  little  note,  bidding  her  mother 
fancy  all  the  cracks  and  interstices  crammed 
with  love,  when  Aunt  Edith  came  to  the  door 
with  a  parcel  in  her  hand. 

"I  hope  there  is  room  for  this,  my  dear? 
O  yes ;  the  box  is  not  nearly  full  yet." 

"  But,  auntie,  what  in  the  world  is  that  ?" 

"  Head  and  see,  Miss  Curiosity." 

Eunice  read,  with  a  glowing  face  : 

"  For  Mrs.  Somers ;  from  all  the  household 
at  No  74 ;  a  token  of  g  latitude  for  the  loan  of 
her  '  right-hand  man.'  " 

"Oh,  Aunt  Edith!"  was  all  that  Eunice 
could  say. 

"  Would  you  like  a  peep  ?"  said  Aunt  Edith, 
opening  one  end  of  the  parcel. 

"Oh,  let  her  see  it;  spread  it  out!"  said 
Aunt  Mildred. 

A  cloak ;  actually  a  new  cloak !  how  long 
since  her  mother  had  had  one !  And  a  dress 
pattern  of  some  serviceable  Aviuter  goods, 
besides  1 


HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  79 

"  From  all  in  the  house  ?  where  shall  I  begin 
to  give  thanks  ?"  said  Eunice,  merrily. 

"  One  would  suppose  the  parcel  was  for  you, 
inissie ;  but  it  is  no  such  thing !"  said  Aunt 
Edith,  folding  the  cloak  again. 

"  But  if  you  will  undertake  the  thanks,  you 
must  begin  with  Dick;  it  was  his  suggestion 
that  we  should  unite  in  a  gift." 

Eunice  did  not  forget  to  '  begin,'  as  soon  as 
her  cousin  came  home. 

Aunt  Edith's  skill  was  needed  to  finish  pack- 
ing the  box. 

The  doll  for  Bess  was  a  beauty  ;  no  such  doll 
had  been  seen  in  the  Somers'  house  since  the 
days  of  Lucilla  the  Fair ;  indeed  the  charms  of 
this  new  '  Heart's  delight '  even  exceeded  the 
memory  of  hers. 

There  was  a  grand  new  knife,  and  an  inte- 
resting book  for  George  ;  and  various  toys  and 
other  matters  for-  Rauney  and  the  little  ones  ; 
the  selection  of  which  had  cost  the  sister 
much  careful  consideration,  'in  deciding  which 
playthings  would  last  longest,  and  best  serve 
the  purpose  of  keeping  the  young  ones  amused, 


80  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

and  out  of  their  mother's  way.  The  choice 
did  credit  to  her  experience  as  an  elder  sister  ; 
though  it  is  fair  to  say  that  she  had  the  advice 
of  Khoda  Herri tt  in  this  important  business. 

At  last  the  box  was  nailed  up  and  directed  ; 
and  Eunice  felt  as  if  she  could  hardly  wait  for 
the  happy  letter  which  should  describe  its 
reception  at  home. 

"  How  devoted  the  child  is  to  her  parents, 
and  brothers  and  sisters  !"  quoth  Mrs.  Ellett, 
to  her  sister-in-law  ;  "  I  think  I  never  saw 
a  more  loving  daughter ;  she  seems  to  have 
noticed  and  treasured  up  every  want  and  wish 
of  her  mother's." 

Mrs.  Hartwell  assented ;  smiling  to  herself  as 
she  thought  how  much  easier  it  was  to  remem- 
ber the  wants  of  friends,  backed  by  a  ready 
purse,  in  rilling  a  Christmas-box,  than  to 
minister  to  these  same  dear  ones,  by  self- 
denial,  in  the  daily  needs  of  home-life.  She 
was,  however,  really  pleased  with  the  thought- 
ful love  evinced  by  her  niece  in  this  matter, 
and  felt  quite  satisfied  that  her  plan  was 
working  well,  in  this  respect,  as  in  others. 


HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  81 

One  more  preparation  for  Christmas,  besides 
those  already  mentioned,  had  pleasantly  occu- 
pied Eunice's  time  and  thoughts ;  that  was, 
making  ready  a  little  token  of  affection  for 
each  member  of  her  uncle's  family.  She  had 
been  occasionally  furnished  with  spending 
money,  by  the  same  indulgent  uncle ;  and 
having  but  few  wants,  had  been  able  to  reserve 
most  of  it  for  this  purpose. 

Miss  Lynde  was  a  most  kind  and  efficient 
helper  in  this  matter ;  suggesting  suitable 
articles,  and  showing  her  how  to  make  them, 
during  sundry  pleasant  afternoon  visits  pro- 
posed for  that  purpose,  which  made  Aunt 
Edith  wonder  at  the  rapid  growth  of  the 
intimacy  between  the  two.  Eunice  did  not 
forget  to  reserve  from  her  little  fund  a  special 
offering  for  Christmas  day;  she  did  not  quite 
forget  to  whose  Hand  she  owed  all  her  present 
happiness. 

Christmas  has  a  right  to  one  chapter  of  our 
"  Winter's  Tule :"  but  we  should  exceed  that 
limit  if  a  full  desciiption  were  given  of  the 

pleasures  of  the   festive  season.     Euough  to 
6 


82  EUNICE   SOMEES. 

say  that  the  work  of  the  happy  hours  of 
preparation  just  referred  to,  was  accepted  with 
pleased  surprise  ;  and  Eunice  found,  on  the 
Christmas  morning,  that  her  friends  had  in 
turn  well  remembered  her. 

The  Christmas  Tree  at  St.  James'  was  a 
most  gratifying  success,  and  the  faithful  band 
of  parish  workers  felt  amply  rewarded  for  their 
exertions  by  the  delightful  Christmas  services 
ID  which  they  participated,  in  their  little 
church. 

Many  happy  auguries  passed  from  lip  to 
lip,  of  an  increase  of  prosperity  to  their  infant 
parish,  as  a  result  of  their  Christmas  tide 

And  the  letter  from  Mansfield  ?  Aye,  it  was 
duly  received ;  and  read  by  Eunice  first,  with 
both  tears  and  smiles ;  and  then  by  each  one  in 
the  house  with  sympathizing  pleasure.  For  it 
spoke  of  the  unbounded  joy  of  the  little  ones 
over  their  treasures ;  and  of  the  uplifting  of  a 
load  of  care  from  the  parents,  by  the  well- 
timed  gifts ;  and  it  was  full  of  the  true  spirit  of 
Christmas ; — thankful,  reverent  joy. 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

Q  Cloub  grists. 

"  We  need  as  much  the  cross  we  bear 

As  air  we  breathe, — as  light  we  see  ; 
It  draws  us  to  Thy  side  in  prayer, 
It  binds  us  to  our  strength  in  Thee." 

|  HE  Christmas  season  was  over ;  and 
Eunice,  realizing  that  her  precious 
winter  was  nearly  half  gone,  applied 
herself  with  redoubled  energy  to  her  studies, 
and  to  her  drawing.  She  seemed  remarkably 
well,  and  her  friends  had  quite  given  up  their 
anxieties  lest  she  should  injure  herself  by 
application  to  study,  as  she  declared  she  had 
never  felt  so  strong,  and  so  free  from  "  aches 
and  ails,"  since  she  could  remember. 
Miss  Lynde,  who  was  becoming  more  and 

more  attached  to  her  loving  young  friend  and 

(83) 


84:  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

pupil,  was  the  means  of  imparting  a  cheerful 
variety  to  her  daily  life,  calling  often  for  her 
company  in  a  walk,  generally  with  some 
special  object  of  interest  in  view ;  and  inviting 
her  frequently  to  her  own  house. 

Dick  North  declared  himself  quite  jealous  of 
this  growing  and  strengthening  friendship. 
At  which  Eunice  only  smiled,  for  she  had 
reason  to  suspect  that  he  visited  Miss  Frances 
quite  as  often  as  she  did,  to  say  the  least ! 

The  girls,  her  classmates  in  Sunday-school, 
proved  very  pleasant  acquaintances.  But 
among  them  all,  to  her  aunt's  surprise,  she 
seemed  to  care  most  for  the  quiet  Rhoda. 

As  has  been  before  hinted,  Eunice  was  at 
first  led  to  notice  Rhoda  by  her  evident  liking 
for  herself;  but,  as  she  knew  her  better,  she 
became  deeply  interested  in  the  shy,  unassum- 
ing girl;  though  she  could  hardly  have  ex- 
plained why.  Eunice  was  warmly  welcomed 
at  the  home  of  her  young  friend,  and  urged  to 
visit  them  often,  which  she  was  not  reluctant  to 
do. 

Like   herself,  Hhoda  was  the  eldest  of  a 


A  CLOUD  ARISES.  85 

large  family  of  children ;  and  though  there  was 
not  the  same  need  of  her  aid  and  efforts,  in 
one  sense,  as  the  Merritts  were  in  easy  circum- 
stances, yet  there  were,  as  in  every  large 
family,  manifold  claims  upon  the  sympathy 
and  good  offices  of  the  elder  sister.  Eunice 
felt  herself  fascinated  in  observing  the  conduct 
of  her  friend  Rhoda,  in  this  respect. 

The  younger  children  seemed  to  think  there 
was  no  one  like  "sister"  to  help  them  out 
of  any  difficulty ;  but  however  frequent  and 
impatient  the  calls  upon  her  attention,  Eunice 
never  heard  from  her  a  vexed  or  angry  word. 
She  always  met  the  little  claimants  with  a 
gentle  smile,  listened  with  patient  interest  to 
their  wants  and  woes,  and  if  she  were  not  able 
to  grant  the  request  urged,  she  would  at  least 
soothe  them,  and  divert  their  attention  to 
something  else. 

"Rhoda,  how  can  you  be  so  patient?  I 
wonder  at  you !" 

This  exclamation  was  forced  from  the  lips  of 
Eunice  one  day,  when  she  was  spending  an 
hour  or  two  with  her  friend.  She  was  trying 


86  EUNICE   SOMEES. 

to  show  her  a  new  "  tatting"  pattern  which  she 
had  learned  of  Miss  Lynde.  Rhoda  Avas  quite 
eager  to  learn  it ;  but  in  the  midst  of  her 
occupation  she  was  interrupted  three  or  four 
times,  by  the  children ;  one  begging  to  know  if 
she  could  find  his  ball ;  another  toddling 
up  with  the  request,  "  Pease  make  my  dolly's 
dress  stay  on  !"  and  so  on. 

Rhoda  laughed  at  Eunice's  remark,  and 
answered  merrily  :  "  It  is  my  best  policy,  you 
see ;  I  can  satisfy  them  a  great  deal  sooner 
if  I  keep  quiet,  myself !  And  besides,"  she 
added,  a  little  gravely,  "  I  never  can  forget  a 
little  verse  my  mother  taught  me  when  I  was 
about  as  old  as  Florie,  there  : 

"  Be  kind  to  each  other, 

The  time's  coming  on 
When  sister  or  brother 
Perhaps  may  be  gone  !" 

Eunice  was  perplexed  by  the  peculiar  tone 
with  which  Rhoda  repeated  these  simple  lines  ; 
she  seemed  to  have  a  meaning  beyond  her 
words ;  and  as  Eunice  looked  questioningly  in 
her  face,  she  was  about  to  say  more ;  but  her 


A  CLOUD  ARISES.  87 

mother  entered  the  room  at  that  moment,  and 
she  playfully  changed  the  subject. 

The  matter  recurred  more  than  once  to 
Eunice's  mind,  after  she  returned  home. 
"  Can  Rhoda  be  ill  in  any  way,  so  bright  and 
lively  as  she  seems  ?"  thought  she.  Then  she 
suddenly  recollected  how,  more  than  once, 
when  she  had  been  with  Rhoda,  a  pallid  look 
had  overspread  her  face,  when  she  was  slightly 
startled  or  excited;  and  sometimes  she  had 
seen  her  press  her  hand  upon  her  side;  but 
when  Eunice  asked  if  anything  was  the  matter, 
she  had  received  an  evasive  reply. 

Eunice  felt  uneasy  about  her  friend,  and  asked 
her  aunt  if  she  knew  of  her  being  out  of  health. 
But  Mrs.  Hart  well  did  not,  and  seemed  sur- 
prised at  the  question  :  "  She  has  the  appear- 
ance of  perfect  health,  I  think,"  she  observed. 

Eunice  intended  to  question  Rhoda  the  next 
time  they  met ;  but  she  saw  her  again,  in  a  day 
or  two,  at  Miss  Lynde's,  and  Rhoda  seemed  so 
happy  and  lively,  with  her  two  favorite  Mends, 
that  Eunice  smiled  at  the  remembrance  of  her 
anxieties. 


88  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

February  Lad  come ;  and  Eunice,  reminding 
herself  of  the  fact,  as  she  dressed  herself,  on 
the  first  morning  of  the  short  month,  felt 
almost  sorry  that  she  had  allowed  herself  to  be 
beguiled  into  visiting,  or  spending  any  time 
in  amusement. 

"  I  must  prepare  longer  lessons  for  uncle ;" 
she  murmured  to  herself ;  "he  will  attend  to 
me  as  long  as  I  can  recite  ;  and  I  must  get  on 
faster!  And  my  drawing!  Positively  that 
piece  must  be  finished  to-day !" 

One  or  two  interruptions  during  her  study 
hours,  only  increased  the  girl's  desire  to  finish 
her  self-imposed  task. 

Dinner  was  delayed  that  evening,  and  Eunice 
worked  on  at  her  drawing  until  the  bell  rang  ; 
although,  it  being  a  dull,  cloudy  day,  the  light 
was  unusually  dim,  even  for  that  twilight 
hour. 

"Come,  little  daughter!  Are  you  here?" 
called  her  uncle,  opening  the  library  door,  on 
his  way  to  the  dining-room.  "What!  not 
draioing,  at  ever  so  much  past ,  five  o'clock ! 
You  are  very  imprudent,  my  dear  child ;  you 


A  CLOUD  ARISES.  89 

should  take  better  care  of  your  precious  ej*e- 
sight  1" 

As  her  uncle  spoke,  Eunice  felt  painfully 
conscious  of  the  justice  of  his  remonstrance. 
She  had  been  annoyed,  more  than  once,  within 
a  few  days  past,  by  a  slight  sensation  of  pain 
and  weakness  of  the  eyes.  Never  having 
experienced  any  difficulty  of  the  kind  before, 
she  had  paid  no  attention  to  it ;  but  this  hour's 
work,  with  very  insufficient  light,  had  greatly 
aggravated  the  troublesome  symptoms.  Eunice 
determined  secretly  not  to  read  or  draw  at 
twilight  again ;  and  not  to  touch  a  book  that 
evening,  except  during  her  recitation  hour. 

She  was  heartily  glad  to  find  that  her  cousin 
Dick  was  to  be  at  home  that  evening,  and 
to  hear  him  propose  a  game  of  backgammon. 
The  said  game  was  quite  tiresome  to  Eunice, 
generally ;  and  she  only  took  part  in  it  out  of 
politeness  to  Dick,  or  to  gratify  Aunt  Mildred, 
who  \vas  very  fond  of  it. 

Eunice  bathed  her  eyes  carefully  when  she 
retired  that  night ;  but  with  all  her  cave,  the 
next  morning  they  were  much  inflamed,  and 


90  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

pained  her  a  good  deal.  Happily,  as  she 
fancied,  no  one  observed  their  condition,  when 
the  family  assembled  for  prayers  and  breakfast. 
Eunice  smuggled  a  small  bowl  of  water  into 
the  library  with  her,  to  bathe  her  eyes  fre- 
quently, hoping  thus  to  be  able  to  pursue  her 
studies. 

"  I  must  study!"  she  ejaculated  ;  "  eyes  or  no 
eyes." 

It  was  well  for  the  reckless  girl  that  Aunt 
Dora  peeped  into  the  library  in  the  course  of 
an  hour : 

"  Eunice,  my  love,  I  am  afraid  it  is  too  cold 
here  for  you :  the  furnace  fire  appears  to 
be  bewitched  this  morning ;  it  will  not  throw 
out  any  heat !  Come  into  the  sitting-room 
with  us  awhile  ;  we  will  not  disturb  you." 

As  Eunice  glanced  up  to  reply,  Miss  Dora 
exclaimed,  in  alarm  : 

"  Why,  my  dear  child !  what  ails  your  eyes  ? 
They  seem  to  be  fearfully  inflamed.  Do  they 
not  pain  you  ?  And  here  you  are  using  them 
in  this  condition  !  Put  away  these  books,  this 
instant !" 


A  CLOUD  ARISES.  91 

And  without  awaiting  the  answer  to  her 
queries,  the  little  woman  bustled  out  of  the 
room,  as  Eunice  knew,  to  give  the  alarm. 
Sure  enough,  in  a  few  moments  she  was 
summoned  to  an  anxious  consultation. 

Mrs.  Hartwell  was  really  worried,  on  exam- 
ining the  poor  eyes,  and  finding  from  Eunice's 
reluctant  answers,  how  long  the  trouble  had 
been  coming  on.  One  prescribed  one  thing, 
and  another  something  quite  different,  until,  as 
Eunice  thought  to  herself,  with  an  inward 
laugh,  "  her  eyes  were  in  peril  of  being  washed 
out." 

But  all  agreed  upon  a  few  points ;  namely, 
that  Eunice  muse  not  use  her  eyes  in  the  least ; 
and  must  wear  a  shade,  and  avoid  a  bright 
light. 

Poor  child!  This  was  no  laughing  matter. 
But  her  friends  exerted  themselves  to  while 
away  the  tedious  hours,  and  she  could  not  but 
feel  grateful  for  their  sympathy.  And  besides, 
she  might  only  lose  one  day,  or  perhaps  two ; 
by  taking  care  of  her  eyes,  surely  they  would 
soon  be  well ! 


92  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

But  the  trouble  was  too  deeply  seated  to  be 
so  easily  overcome.  The  pain  in  her  eyes 
rather  increased  than  diminished  towards 
evening;  and  when  Mr.  Hartwell  came  homo 
to  dinner,  and  heard  his  wife's  report,  and 
examined  the  eyes,  he  at  once  declared  that  ifc 
was  not  a  matter  to  be  trifled  with. 

"  Dr.  Williams  is  considerable  of  an  oculist ;" 
said  he  ;  "  I  suppose  he  could  hardly  pronounce 
upon  the  case  at  night,  but  I  will  get  him  to 
call  early  to-morrow  morning." 

"  In  the  mean  time,  my  dear,  be  very  careful, 
and  do  not  use  your  eyes  at  all." 

Poor  Eunice  suffered  too  much  with  the 
offending  members  to  be  in  any  danger  of  dis- 
regarding this  command. 

Her  uncle  very  kindly  proposed  reading 
aloud,  and  chose  an  entertaining  book  for  the 
evening ;  but  Eunice  felt  too  uneasy  in  body 
and  mind  to  enjoy  it  very  much.  The  thought 
would  present  itself,  again  and  again :  "  What 
if  my  eyes  should  grow  worse,  and  I  should 
have  to  give  up  my  drawing,  and  all  my  studies!" 

At  an  early  hour  she  crept  away  to  bed,  and 


A  CLOUD  ABISES.  93 

cried  herself  to  sleep  :  which  did  not  improve 
the  state  of  the  poor  eyes. 

Dr.  Williams  called  the  next  morning,  and 
made  a  careful  examination.  He  was  a  man 
of  few  words,  and  was  proceeding  to  make  out 
a  prescription,  when  Eunice  exclaimed  : 

"  Doctor,  please  say  that  I  may  study  very 
soon  again ;  it  will  not  hurt  me  to  use  my 
eyes  carefully,  will  it  ?" 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  you  are  not  to  think 
of  studying  at  present ;  I  fear  it  will  requii-e 
many  days  of  rest  and  careful  nursing  to  mako 
your  eyes  well  and  strong  again." 

The  words  smote  like  lead  upon  Eunice's 
heart. 

"When  the  doctor  had  given  Mrs.  Hartwell 
his  directions,  and  left  the  house,  Eunice  went 
up  to  her  own  room.  Not  now  to  weep ;  she 
felt  too  gloomy  for  that  relief;  a  sullen  feeling, 
almost  of  despair,  held  possession  of  her  soul. 

After  waiting  some  time  for  her  to  come 
down,  Mrs.  Hartwell  went  up  to  her  room,  and 
found  Eunice  still  lying  on  the  bed,  with  her 
face  hidden  in  the  pillows. 


94  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

"  Come,  my  child,"  said  her  aunt,  cheerily, 
"  do  not  feel  so  badly.  I  am  going  round  to 
the  apothecary's  to  have  this  lotion  prepared, 
and  I  want  you  to  go  with  me.  I  will  lend  you 
my  thick  green  veil,  and  it  is  so  mild  and 
pleasant  this  morning  it  will  do  you  good  to 
walk  out  a  little. 

"  Then  we  must  stop  and  let  Mr.  Neville 
know  why  you  cannot  be  with  the  class  to-day. 
Cheer  up,  and  we  will  hope  you  will  soon  be 
well  again.  "When  we  come  back  from  our 
walk  we  will  see  what  else  we  can  find  to  do, 
to  pass  away  the  time." 

All  in  the  house  were  full  of  sympathy  for 
Eunice  in  her  trial,  and  ready  to  do  all  in  their 
power  to  alleviate  it ;  but  they  did  not  succeed 
in  recalling  the  cheerful  smile  and  happy  look 
which  they  had  loved  to  see. 

The  heart  of  the  young  girl  was  fall  of  bitter, 
rebellious  thoughts. 

"Mother  said  well  that  I  could  not  escape 
the  cross,"  she  murmured,  in  the  solitude  of 
her  own  room,  where  she  would  gladly  have 
stayed  all  the  day ;  "  but  oh !  if  it  might  have 


A  CLOUD   ARISES.  f 

been  anything  but  this.  To  have  to  give  up 
all  that  I  came  here  for,  and  lose  all  my  oppor- 
tunities : — it  is  too  hard  !" 

Mrs.  Hartwell  wrote  to  her  sister,  informing 
her  of  Eunice's  trouble. 

"The  doctor  told  us,  privately,"  she  wrote, 
"that  he  feared  it  was  a  case  which  would 
require  long  and  patient  treatment.  In  fact, 
though  I  hope  his  remedies  may  sooner  effect  a 
cure,  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  poor  child 
may  not  be  able  to  use  her  eyes  much  this 
spring. 

"  I  anticipate  your  probable  reply  to  this,  my 
dear  sister ;  and  hasten  to  beg  that  you  will 
not  urge  her  return  home  just  yet. 

"At  present  she  is  so  much  depressed  by 
the  disappointment,  and  the  sudden  interruption 
of  her  pursuits,  that  we  cannot  seem  to  say 
much  to  comfort  her.  But  we  hope,  in  a  day 
or  two,  she  will  become  more  reconciled  to  her 
trial ;  and  we  are  planning  various  ways  to 
curry  on  a  course  of  instruction,  witbout  the 
eyes. 

"  There  is  to  be  a  series  of  scientific  lectures, 


96  EUNICE  SOMEBS. 

during  the  next  three  or  four  weeks,  to  which 
cousin  Dick  proposes  to  take  her. 

"  Then,  either  sister  Mildred,  Dora,  or  I  can 
read  to  her  aloud,  in  history,  and  other  useful 
works ;  fixing  the  lesson  by  questions. 

"The  interruption  to  her  drawing,  in  which 
she  was  making  very  rapid  progress,  is  the 
most  trying  part  of  all ;  but  then  there  is  the 
hope  that  she  may  soon  be  able  to  resume  it ; 
if  she  were  to  give  up  this  hope,  as  she  would 
in  returning  home  now,  it  would  be  very  hard 
for  her." 

Mrs.  Sorners'  reply  was  addressed  to  Eunice : 

MANSFIELD,  Feb.  8. 

"  MY  DAKLING  DAUGHTER  : 

"  Your  Aunt  Edith's  letter  is  received,  and  I 
feel  that  I  must  write  at  once,  to-night,  to  tell 
you  how  much  we  feel  for  you,  in  your  trouble. 

"  Your  father  and  I  know  well  that  this  is  a 
severe  trial  to  our  eager,  ambitious  Eunie ; 
and  we  hope  and  pray  that  our  dear  girl  has 
sought  of  the  Lord  grace  to  bear  this  trial  sub- 
missively and  cheerfully,  as  a  Christian  should. 


A  CLOUD  ARISES.  y? 

"  Perhaps,  my  love,  there  was  need  that  you 
should  pause  awhile  in  a  prosperous  and  joyous 
career,  and  look  within.  Perhaps  our  Lord 
s;i\v  that  amid  the  abundance  of  His  good  gifts 
there  was  danger  that  you  might  forget  the 
Giver. 

"Try  to  feel  assured,  my  Eunice,  that  all 
which  He  orders  is  for  the  best. 

41 '  Whate'er  my  God  ordains  is  right ; 
My  Light,  my  Life  is  He, 
Who  cannot  will  me  anght  but  good, 
I  trust  Him  utterly: 
For  well  I  know, 
In  joy  or  woe, 

We  soon  shall  see,  as  sunlight  clear, 
How  faithful  was  our  Guardian  here.' 

"  Tour  kind  auntie  seems  to  be  devising  ways 
to  keep  you  pleasantly  occupied  still :  say  to 
her,  witli  my  love,  that  I  think  she  is  right, 
and  that  I  thank  her  heartily  for  all  her  kind- 
ness. 

"  Good-by,  my  dear  child  ;  I  trust  your  dark 
hours  will  be  brightened  by  faith,  hope,  and 
love.  MOTHER." 

Eunice  silently  handed  this  letter  to  her  Aunt 
7 


98  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

Edith  to  read,  in  reply  to  her  questioning  look  ; 
and,  when  it  was  returned,  retreated  with  it  to 
her  own  room. 

She  knew  she  must  not  pore  over  it,  with  her 
bodily  eyes ;  but  there  was  no  need ;  the  words 
of  the  letter  had  served  to  arouse  a  train  of 
thought ; — self-accusing,  reproachful  thoughts, 
they  were. 

"  How  ungrateful  they  must  have  thought 
me  here !"  she  whispered,  "  to  be  so  sullen, 
when  they  are  all  doing  so  much  to  comfort  me." 

And  conscience  added :  "  How  ungrateful 
I  have  been  to  my  Heavenly  Father  !  '  Shall 
we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  and 
shall  we  not  receive  evil  ?' ': 

These  salutary  musings  were  interrupted  by 
a  summons  to  the  parlor,  where  Eunice  found 
her  friend  Miss  Lynde. 

She  had  heard  of  the  young  girl's  trouble, 
and  called  at  once  to  sjmpathize  with,  and 
cheer  her. 

She  proposed  to  go  over  the  lesson  for  the 
next  day  with  Eunice,  it  being  Saturday,  that 
she  might  be  prepared  with  the  class. 


A  CLOUD  ARISES.  99 

The  next  day  was  Septuagesima  Sunday  ; 
sind  Eunice's  reflections  upon  her  mother's 
letter  had  so  humbled  her  that  she  was  able 
sincerely  to  make  the  words  of  the  Collect  her 
own  : 

"We  beseech  Thee  favorably  to  hear  the 
prayers  of  Thy  people ;  that  we  who  are  justly 
punished  for  our  offences,  may  be  mercifully 
delivered  by  Thy  goodness,  for  the  glory  of 
Thy  name." 


CHAPTEE  YIII. 

daubs  gljofo  tlje  SHber  fitting. 


"  Thy  truer  self  to  thee  returns, 
A  higher  hope  within  thee  glows. 

Nothing  too  costly  to  lay  down 
For  Him  whose  smile  pays  every  loss  : 
Could  we  but  see  it,  there's  a  crowii 
Hangs,  halo  like,  round  every  cross." 


over,  Eunice  showed  the 
benefit  of  its  means  of  grace,  by  en- 
tering with  a  comparatively  cheerful 
and  hopeful  spirit,  upon  the  new  arrangements 
proposed  for  her.  Her  eyes  were  no  better, 
that  she  could  perceive,  except  that  she  suffered 
less  actual  pain  than  when  the  acute  attack 
first  came  on.  She  was  very  faithful  in  apply- 
ing the  prescribed  remedies  ;  and  Dr.  Williams 
encouraged  her  by  saying  that  she  was  doing 
better  than  he  had  at  first  anticipated  :  Eunice 

(100) 


THE   CLOUDS   SHOW  THE  SILVER  LINING.    101 

mentally  wondered  what  he  could  have  antici- 
pated worse  than  this ! 

The  doctor  was  of  opinion  that  with  due 
caution  in  protecting  the  eyes  from  the  light, 
and  from  dust  and  wind,  his  young  patient 
would  do  better  with  as  much  out-door  exer- 
cise as  she  had  been  accustomed  to ;  perhaps 
even  more.  It  was  desirable,  he  told  her  aunt, 
to  keep  up  the  tone  of  her  general  health,  and 
her  cheerfulness  of  mind. 

So  there  was  no  objection  to  the  attendance 
upon  the  scientific  lectures,  guarding  carefully 
against  a  chill  in  coming  out  into  the  night 
air. 

At  least,  so  Mrs.  Hartwell  thought ;  but,  the 
day  after  attending  the  second  lecture,  the  poor 
eyes  were  so  much  worse,  that  it  was  evident  it 
would  not  do  for  Eunice  to  go  out  at  night. 

This  was  a  new  disappointment,  for  Eunice 
had  already  become  very  much  interested  in 
the  course  ;  but  she  was  learning  her  lesson  of 
patient  submission,  and  bore  this  decision  very 
cheerfully. 

Her  cousin  Dick  was  quite  impressed  by  her 


102  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

manner,  knowing  well  how  much  she  had  en- 
joyed the  lectures. 

"  I  believe,"  said  he,  "  it  was  watching  the 
experiments,  that  tried  her  eyes,  more  than 
being  out  in  the  evening.  There  is  to  be  a 
pretty  good  concert  next  week,  Tuesday  ;  can  I 
take  her  to  that  ?  She  can  listen  to  the  music 
with  her  eyes  shut." 

It  was  well  that  Eunice  was  out  of  hearing 
of  this  tempting  proposal;  she  was  nearly  as 
fond  of  music  as  of  drawing,  and  had  thoroughly 
enjoyed  the  two  or  three  concerts  to  which  she 
had  been  treated,  during  the  winter. 

Mrs.  Hartwell  shook  her  head  :  "  The  hall 
will  be  brightly  lighted,"  she  said,  "  and  I  am 
afraid  there  will  be  a  good  deal  of  risk :  it  is 
better  to  be  on  the  safe  side." 

History  flourished,  almost  as  well  as  if  the 
young  student  had  the  use  of  her  eyes.  Mrs. 
Hartwell  read  remarkably  well,  so  that  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  listen  to  her :  she  asked  questions, 
at  the  close  of  each  reading,  reviewing  occa- 
sionally. 

For    another    exercise,    she    read    choice 


THE   CLOUDS  SHOW  THE  SILVER  LINING.    103 

passages  of  prose  or  poetry,  which  Eunice  was 
to  analyze  ami  parse. 

Mr.  Hart  well  declared  he  would  not  be  de- 
prived of  his  hour  with  his  pupil,  after  dinner  ; 
and  with  a  good  deal  of  ingenuity,  he  managed 
that  she  should  not  lose,  but  really  make  addi- 
tional progress  in  her  Latin  ;  exercising  her  in 
a  review  of  the  Grammar,  and  in,  translating 
passages  which  he  read  to  her. 

He  also  carried  on  a  very  improving  mental 
drill  in  mathematics ;  and  laughingly  declared 
that  if  other  professions  failed,  he  should  set 
himself  up  as  a  teacher  of  the  blind. 

Mrs.  Ellett  continued  quite  feeble ;  indeed, 
had  Eunice  not  been  disabled,  she  would 
hardly  have  been  able  to  continue  the  sewing 
lessons. 

During  the  rebellious  days  after  the  trouble 
with  her  eyes  began,  Eunice  scarcely  saw  her 
gentle  old  friend.  Mrs.  Ellett  was  not  able  to 
go  down  to  meals,  or  to  enjoy  her  customary 
drives;  and  Eunice  avoided  her  room,  because 
she  could  not  bear  to  be  questioned  about  her 
eyes. 


104  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

On  the  afternoon  of  thab  Sunday  on  which  a 
better  spirit  took  possession  of  her  heart,  she 
went  in  to  sit  with  the  old  lady  awhile  after 
church,  and  was  so  warmly  and  affectionately 
greeted  that  her  heart  smote  her  for  her 
negligence. 

"I  thought  my  darling  had  forgotten  that 
Aunt  Mildred  was  here,  wishing  for  her 
sunbeam." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  not  been  a  sunbeam  to 
any  one,  lately,"  returned  Eunice,  kissing  the 
soft  hand  she  held. 

"  It  does  me  good  to  see  a  bright  young  face, 
my  dear ;  and  yours  cannot  be  overcast  long, 
because  you  know  who  chooses  for  us  our  good 
and  ill" 

And  little  Aunt  Dora-,  how  was  her  sympathy 
manifested  ?  Firstly,  in  her  own  most  natural 
way ;  by  keeping  watch  over  Eunice's  wardrobe, 
with  additional  care,  "  because  the  poor  child 
couldn't  take  a  stitch  for  herself,  now."  To  say 
truth,  never  had  her  mending  been  so  neatly 
and  thoroughly  done,  since  it  fell  into  the 
young  lady's  charge,  as  now. 


THE  CLOUDS  SHOW  THE  SILVER  LINING.    105 

One  morning,  Miss  Dora  had  come  into 
Eunice's  room  with  some  stockings  which  she 
had  darned,  as  Eunice  was  dusting  her  bureau. 
A  half  sigh  escaped  her,  as  she  placed  in  an 
orderly  pile  her  Bible  and  Prayer-book,  and 
one  or  two  little  books  for  private  devotional 
reading.  Meeting  Miss  Dora's  glance,  she  said : 
"  It  seems  so  strange  that  I  must  not  use  these  !" 

"  Have  you  a  '  Daily  Food,'  my  dear?  I 
mean  a  little  book  with  a  text  for  each  day, 
you  know." 

Eunice  had  not :  and  Miss  Dora  left  the 
room,  returning  in  a  moment  with  a  tiny 
volume  in  her  hand. 

"  I  will  give  you  this,  my  dear,  if  you  will 
accept  it;  and  I  must  tell  you  why  I 
thought  of  it. 

"  I  had  a  friend  once  who  for  many  years 
had  been  unable  to  walk,  except  a  few  steps 
with  crutches.  She  lay  on  her  back  through 
the  greater  part  of  every  day.  And  this  was 
not  all ;  she  was  afflicted  also  with  some  dis- 
ease of  the  eyes,  so  that  she  could  not  use 
them  at  all,  in  readiug  or  sewing. 


106  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"But  she  always  kept  a  copy  of  this  little 
Daily  Food  under  lier  pillow.  'Her  eyes 
must  serve  her,'  she  said,  '  to  read  one  verse  a 
clay  for  herself;'  though  for  all  beside  she  must 
depend  upon  the  kind  offices  of  others.  So  I 
thought,  my  dear,  you  might  like  to  adopt  the 
same  plan." 

Eunice  thankfully  received  the  little  volume, 
saying  it  was  just  what  she  wanted. 

Miss  Dora  smoothed  the  bureau  cover  with 
her  fingers,  hesitatingly,  and  then  added  :  "  If 
you  would  like  it,  my  dear, — seeing  that  you 
cannot  read  for  yourself, — you  might  come  to 
my  room  between  nine  and  ten  in  the  morning  ; 
that  is,  when  I  get  through  my  little  chores 
about  the  house,  you  know. 

"  I  have  a  quiet  little  time  to  myself  then ; 
and  if  you  have  a  mind  to  come  in,  I  can  read 
aloud,  and  so  share  my  portion  with  you  ;  we 
will  each  try  to  feel  as  if  we  were  all  alone." 

"I  should  like  to,  Aunt  Dora;  thank  }7ou; 
is  it  time  now?"  said  Eunice. 

Miss  Dora  assented,  and  led  the  way  to  her 
own  room ;  a  small  chamber  which  was  ex- 


THE  CLOUDS  SHOW  THE  SILVER  UNING.    107 

clusively  hers,  although  she  generally  slept 
with  her  invalid  charge. 

Eunice  would  have  been  sorry  to  betray  how 
much  she  was  surprised  by  this  proposal. 
Miss  Dora  was  the  last  one  of  the  household, 
Dick  excepted,  from  whom  she  would  have  ex- 
pected it.  She  had  formed  her  own  opinion  of 
the  bustling  little  woman,  as  one  whose  religion 
was  rather  overgrown  by  worldliness.  How 
ashamed  she  felt  of  her  self-satisfied  compari- 
sons, and  uncharitable  judgments,  while  seated 
by  her  Aunt  Dora's  side,  that  morning ! 

The  offer  had  not  been  made  without  a 
struggle  on  the  part  of  the  humble-minded 
Christian,  who  was  not  accustomed  to  vaunt 
her  piety  ;  and  it  was  with  a  somewhat  tremu- 
lous tone  that  she  began  her  customary  reading, 
in  the  presence  of  another.  Gradually  the 
tremor  disappeared,  and  the  reader  seemed 
absorbed  in  her  occupation,  as  if  unconscious 
of  an  auditor,  or  only  remembering  that  she 
too  needed  the  "  water"  which  she  was  seeking 
to  draw,  "  from  the  wells  of  salvation." 

These    third-hour     devotions    consisted    in 


108  EUNICE  SOMEBS. 

reading  the  psalms  for  the  clay,  and  the  second 
morning  lesson  ;  also  a  few  passages  from  "  The 
Imitation  of  Christ,"  or  some  other  work  of 
similar  character,  and  a  brief  arrangement  of 
prayers  for  the  hour,  which  called  forth  the 
soul  of  the  youthful  Christian,  in  unison  with 
their  fervent  words,  as  they  were  meekly 
uttered  by  her  companion.  When  they  arose 
from  their  knees,  Eunice  gave  this  true  friend 
a  kiss,  and  a  whispered  "  Thank  you,"  and 
quietly  left  the  room. 

To  no  one  else  did  she  speak  of  this  privi- 
lege, as  she  felt  it  to  be ;  but  it  proved  a  great 
help  to  her  during  the  season  of  trial  which 
had  but  just  begun. 

Frances  Lyncle  was  by  no  means  forgetful  of 
the  added  claims  of  her  young  friend  upon  her 
attention. 

Eunice  greatly  enjoyed  running  around  to 
spend  an  hour  or  two  with  her,  and  was  fully 
satisfied  to  sit  beside  her,  watching  her  at 
work,  and  listeniug  to  her  pleasant  and  improv- 
ing talk ;  and  more  than  satisfied  if  Miss  Lynde 
remembered  to  lay  down  the  work  awhile  and 


THE  CLOUDS  SHOW  THE  SILVER  LINING.    109 

play  for  her,  or  sing,  with  her  rich  voice,  some 
touching  ballad,  or  sacred  melody. 

"  Do  you  never  sing  yourself,  Eunice  ?"  she 
asked  ouce,  impressed  with  her  evident  enjoy- 
ment of  the  music. 

"I?  O  no!  At  least,  I  used  to  at  home, 
after  my  fashion ;  just  to  put  baby  to  sleep." 

Miss  Lynde  smiled,  and  was  about  to  ask 
her  to  sing  a  familiar  strain  with  her,  to  test 
her  toice ;  but  was  interrupted  by  some  callers. 
A  day  or  two  afterward,  she  called  at  Mrs. 
Hartwell's  iii  the  morning,  and  finding  Eunice 
with  her  aunt,  said  playfully  : 

"  I  am  come  to  take  this  benighted  girl,  with 
your  permission,  to  hear  a  rehearsal  of  the 
oratorio  which  is  to  be  performed  to-morrow 
evening  ;  I  think  this  is  the  last  rehearsal,  and 
it  will  be  about  as  fine  as  the  actual  perform- 
ance." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  have  her  hear  it," 
said  Mrs.  Hartwell ;  "  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to 
think  of  her.  Run,  my  dear,  and  get  ready ; 
we  will  excuse  the  history  to-day." 

Eunice  was  not  long  in  dressing,  and  soon 


110  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

re-appeared,  with  eyes  that  danced  in  spite  of 
their  ailing. 

"  Let  me  tie  your  veil  closely,  dear ;  there  is 
a  good  deal  of  wind  this  morning.  Mrs.  Hart- 
well,  do  not  be  surprised  if  you  do  not  see  this 
troublesome  charge  of  yours  until  nightfall.  I 
suppose  I  must  not  keep  her  out  for  the 
evening,  but  I  want  her  all  day." 

It  was  the  Oratorio  of  The  Messiah,  to  which 
Eunice  was  privileged  to  listen  that  morning ; 
it  was  really  well  performed ;  and  no  lover  of 
good  music  need  be  told  how  she  enjoyed  it.  • 

The  Lyndes  dined  at  two,  so  that  they  were 
summoned  to  dinner  soon  after  they  reached 
the  house. 

Perhaps  the  excitement  of  the  morning  and 
the  absence  of  luncheon,  had  something  to  do 
with  it,  but  Eunice  fancied  it  was  the  earlier 
hour  which  gave  her  such  an  excellent  appetite  ; 
she  had  never  become  quite  used  to  the  late 
dinners  which  her  uncle's  business  made  neces- 
sary. 

After  dinner  Miss  Lynde  was  obliged  to  leave 
her  young  guest  by  herself  for  a  short  time  ; 


THE  CLOUDS  SHOW  THE  SILVER  LINING.    Ill 

and,  returning  unexpectedly  to  the  parlor,  she 
was  surprised  to  hear  her  singing  to  herself 
one  of  the  airs  from  the  oratorio  they  had  just 
heard. 

She  played  the  part  of  listener  for  a  few 
moments,  until  the  young  singer  became  con- 
scious that  she  was  likely  to  be  heard,  and 
ceased  suddenly. 

Then  she  entered,  and  said,  merrily,  "  What 
voice  could  I  have   overheard,  warbling  that 
aria  ?     There  is  no  one  here  but  a  child,  who 
says  she  cannot  sing." 
Eunice  blushed  ;  but  her  friend  went  oh  : 
"  Seriously,  my  dear  child,  I  judge  from  that 
little  performance  that  you  have  quite  a  sweet 
voice,  as  well  as  a  quick  ear  for  music ;  come, 
let  us  try  it  again,  together." 

Miss  Lynde  had  the  music  of  the  aria,  which 
was  "  Come  unto  Me ;"  and  having  found  it, 
and  placed  it  open  upon  the  piano,  she  called 
Eunice  to  her  side,  and  insisted  that  she  should 
try  it  with  her. 

Eunice's  voice  was  weak  and  frightened  at 
first;  but  on  going  over  the  piece  the  second 


112  EUNICE   SOMEKS. 

time,  she  gained  confidence,  and  came  out  upon 
the  high  notes  with  a  sweet,  clear  tone  which 
delighted  her  friend. 

"  My  dear,  I  am  afraid  one  of  your  talents 
has  been  quite  undervalued  and  lost  sight  of; 
but  I  am  determined  it  shall  be  so  no  longer." 

"  Do  you  know,"  continued  Miss  Lynde,  in 
her  sprightly  way,  wheeling  round  upon  the 
piano  stool,  and  seizing  Eunice's  hands  in  her 
own,  I  am  very  selfishly  glad  to  have  made 
this  discovery  just  now." 

"  Why,  pray?" 

"  Because,  you  remember,  Lent  begins  next 
week;  Mr.  Kobertson  likes  to  have  at  least  a 
hymn  at  the  early  services,  if  we  cannot  have 
the  chants ;  but  it  is  very  hard  getting  our 
singers  to  attend,  and  .so,  as  I  do  not  like  to 
disappoint  him,  or  to  have  the  service  entirely 
without  music,  I  have  often  been  obliged  to 
lead  off  all  alone.  But  now  I  shall  rely  upon 
having  a  helper  always  on  hand. 

"  And  we  will  make  a  bargain,  if  your  aunt  is 
•willing.  You  shall  help  me  in  the  choir ;  and 
I  will  give  you  lessons  ; — that  is,  you  know,  we 


KOTUCE   AXD  MT8S  T.YNDE.— PAGE  112. 


THE  CLOUDS  SHOW  THE   SILVER  UNING.    113 

will  have  little  private  rehearsals  of  our  own  ; 
and  I  will  teach  you  all  I  can  without  calling 
the  eyes  into  request  too  much." 

There  was  no  need  to  ask  if  this  plan  was 
satis f actoiy ;  at  least  the  latter  part  of  it. 
Eunice  had  never  had  any  instruction  in  music. 
She  shrank  a  little  from  the  idea  of  singing 
in  church,  but  would  not  refuse,  if  she  could 
really  help  Miss  Lynde  in  her  somewhat 
arduous  duties. 

And  so  a  new  and  unexpected  opportunity 
for  usefulness,  and  self-improvement,  opened 
up  before  Eunice;  for  her  Aunt  Edith,  far 
from  objecting,  was  much  gratified  by  Miss 
Lynde's  kind  proposition ;  though  surprised 
by  her  opinion  of  her  niece's  voice  and  musical 
taste,  having  seldom  heard  her  attempt  to 
sing. 


8 


CHAPTER  IX. 


'Teach  us,  as  we  pass  along, 

In  the  shining  of  Thy  face. 
Many  a  sweet  thanksgiving  song, 
Even  in  a  dreary  place  ...... 


"  In  the  shadow  of  Thy  hand 

We  can  brave  the  uprooting  gale  ; 
And  n  little  child  may  stand 
Where  a  soldier's  heart  would  fail/ 


LETTER  from  her  mother  informed 
Eunice  that  Kanney  had  had  a  fall, 
the  effects  of  which  alarmed  them 
for  a  time  ;  but  that  he  seemed  to  be  getting 
over  it  nicely,  and  they  had  relinquished  their 
fears  of  permanent  injury. 

The  same  letter  stated  that  Mr.  Somers  was 
gaining  constantly,  and  was  better  able  to 
attend  to  business  than  he  had  been  in  two  or 

three  years.      "  The    children  are   well ;    and 
(114) 


RHODA.  115 

we  are  all  getting  on  finely,"  continued  the 
writer. 

"  The  children  were  preparing  their  Sunday- 
school  lessons  together,  last  week:  Kanney 
received  the  explanation  that  the  word  Lent 
means  '  Spring.' 

"  Bessie  overheard  it,  and  exclaimed,  joyfully, 
'  Oh !  Then  if  spring  is  most  here,  it  will  soon 
be  time  for  Eunice  to  come  home,  for  she  was 
to  stay  "  all  winter,"  and  whiter  is  done  !' 

"  You  see,  darling,  that  your  return  is  joy- 
fully looked  forward  to  by  those  at  home. 

"  Aunt  Edith  and  Bessie  would  disagree  in 
the  application  of  the  term  '  all  winter ;'  but  I 
suppose  we  may  look  for  you  at  home  soon 
after  Easter,  although  I  shall  defer  to  your 
auntie's  wishes  in  .  settiug  a  time  for  your 
return.  In  the  mean  time,  be  assured  that  we 
all  love  you  dearly,  and  shall  be  glad  to  see 
you  when  the  time  comes." 

Euuice  was  preparing  to  go  and  see  Ehoda, 
when  this  letter  was  received,  and  it  gave  her 
food  for  thought,  as  she  walked  along. 

"To-inorrow  is  Ash  Wednesday;  yes,  and  it 


116  EUNICE  SOMEKS. 

is  the  very  last  day  of  winter,  at  least  of  the 
winter  months.  How  soon  Easter  will  be 
here!  And  I  cannot  begin  to  use  my  eyes 
yet :  my  drawing  lessons  are  over,  I  am 
afraid ; — oh  dear !" 

Just  then,  in  turning  a  corner,  she  en- 
countered Mr.  Neville. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Somers,  well  met !  I  have  been 
wishing  to  be  able  to  call  and  inquire  after  my 
truant  pupil.  The  eyes  are  well,  by  this  time, 
I  hope  ;  you  have  not  lost  your  interest  in  our 
beautiful  art,  have  you  ?" 

"No,  indeed!"  Eunice  protested;  and  ex- 
plained that  she  was  not  yet  permitted  the  use 
of  her  eyes. 

Mr.  Neville  looked  a  little  incredulous,  and 
expressing  the  hope  that  she  might  soon 
recover,  bowed  and  passed  on. 

"  I  wonder  if  the  man  thinks  I  don't  care  to 
pursue  my  lessons?"  muttered  Eunice,  quite 
vexed. 

On  the  whole,  she  was  not  in  the  most 
amiable  of  moods  when  she  reached  the 
house  of  her  friend. 


RHODA.  117 

Rhoda  soon  perceived  the  lack  of  her  usual 
cheerful  manner,  and  after  a  one-sided  chat, 
prolonged  for  some  little  time,  ventured  to 
inquire  what  had  disturbed  her  friend. 

"  Oh,  nothing  new !"  replied  Eunice  ;  "  only 
I  met  Mr.  Neville  on  the  way,  and  was  re- 
minded afresh  of  my  disappointment." 

"About  your  eyes?  Mr.  Neville  was  your 
drawing-teacher,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes :  oh,  Rhoda !  you  can't  begin  to  under- 
stand how  hard  it  is !  I  thought  I  was  getting 
on  so  well ;  and  I  was  trying  so  hard  to 
improve  this  precious  winter !  Why  should  I  be 
laid  aside  in  this  way?  I  cannot  feel  as  if 
it  were  right !" 

"  Oh,  Eunice  dear !  You  do  not  mean  that ! 
You  and  I  know  better." 

"Ah!  It  is  very  easy  to  'know,'  and  to 
'  talk ;'  but  if  you  had  such  a  trial,  you  would 
not  find  it  easy  always  iofeel  just  right." 

"  No ;  it  is  not  always  easy,  but  we  can 
get  help,  you  know,  dear." 

"Wait  until  you  are  put  out  in  all  j'our 
plans,  and  see  if  you  don't  feel  naughty  some- 


118  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

times.  You  have  nothing  in  the  world  to  try 
you  yet,  and  you  cannot  understand." 

"  Oh,  Eunice  !"  The  exclamation  was  almost 
a  cry,  as  if  the  words  of  her  friend  hurt  her ; 
but  Ehoda  added  instantly,  in  her  own  quiet 
tone:  "  I  think  I  can  understand,  dear;  perhaps 
I  have  a  trial  too,  though  I  do  not  want  to  feel 
it  such." 

Eunice  glanced  wonderingly  at  the  speaker, 
and  again  she  noticed  the  sudden  paleness 
which  she  had  observed  before. 

"Ehoda,  what  do  you  mean?  Please  tell 
me.  Are  you  ill?"  she  asked,  passing  her 
arm  affectionately  around  her  companion's 
waist. 

Bhoda  paused  before  answering,  and  Eunice 
perceived  that  this  pause,  so  habitual  with  her, 
and  which,  had  the  appearance  of  hesitation 
and  shyness,  was  in  order  to  gain  calmness ; 
for  she  could  feel  the  rapid  beating  of  her 
heart,  and  was  surprised  at  her  seeming  agita- 
tion. 

"  I  thought  you  knew,  Eunice, — at  least,  my 
friends  generally  know,  that  I  have  a  disease  of 


RHODA.  119 

the  heart,  which  may  at  any  time  cause  my 
death." 

Eunice  with  difficulty  repressed  the  startled 
exclamation  which  rose  to  her  lips.  She  did 
not  trust  herself  to  speak,  but  clasped  Rhoda's 
hand  with  a  loving  pressure  which  spoke  her 
sympathy. 

"  I  used  to  think,  before  I  knew  this,"  con- 
tinued Rhoda,  "  that  I  should  so  love  to 
study, — to  study  real  hard,  I  mean,  as  you 
like  to  do.  But  you  see,  all  I  can  do  now,  is 
to  try  to  keep  quiet,  and  live  a  little  longer  for 
my  dear  parents'  sake ;  they  would  miss  their 
useless  little  girl." 

This  was  said  in  a  cheerful,  even  playful 
tone,  and  with  a  smile  which  went  to  the  heart 
of  her  friend. 

"  Oh,  Rhoda !  And  you  are  so  patient  and 
happy,  with  this  before  your  mind ;  and  I  have 
been  so  rebellious,  just  because  I  have  to  stop 
for  a  little  while.  But  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
be  so  calm — so  satisfied !"  said  Eunice,  turning 
so  as  to  look  full  in  Rhoda's  face. 

All  was    explained    now;    that  which  had 


120  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

so  puzzled  her,  and  that  which  had  attracted 
her  so  much,  in  Rhoda. 

Eunice  recalled  at  once  her  manner  with  the 
little  ones,  and  her  reply,  on  that  subject. 
She  remembered,  also,  the  peculiar  watchful 
tenderness  of  her  parents  towards  her,  and 
also  of  Miss  Lynde,  and  of  some  of  her  young 
companions  :  they  had  known,  evidently ;  it  was 
strange  that  Eunice  had  not  learned  tins 
before. 

"  There !  you  have  said  it  in  the  very  words 
of  my  favorite  hymn;  the  next  line  answers 
you, — the  only  answer  I  can  give  : 

"So  safe,  so  calm,  so  satisfied 
The  souls  that  cling  to  Thee  ! 

"Blest  is  our  lot,  whate'er  befall : 
What  can  affright,  or  who  appall  ? 
Since  as  our  Strength,  our  Bock,  our  all, 
Jesus,  we  cling  to  Thee  !" 

"  Dear  Rhoda !  Teach  me  to  be  like  you.  I 
wish  I  had  your  faith!" 

"  We  are  in  the  same  school,  Eunice,  and  we 
have  the  same  ever  kind  teacher.  /  cannot 


RHODA.  121 

teach  you,  but  we  will  help  each  other  learn ; 
wont  we-?" 

A  smile,  dimmed  with  tears,  was  all  the 
answer  Eunice  could  give. 

"Areu't  you  glad  that  Lent  begins  to- 
morrow ?"  said  llhoda ;  "  and  we  are  to 
have  daily  services,  at  eight  o'clock,  you  know ; 
I  do  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  go  to  every 
one." 

"  I  want  to,  too  ;"  said  Eunice,  but  I  suppose 
I  shall  iniss  some  ;  Aunt  Edith  is  so  particular 
about  my  going  out  when  it  is  at  all  wet,  011 
account  of  my  eyes ;  and  we  are  apt  to  have 
some  damp  mornings  at  this  season." 

"  Mother  says  '  no '  to  me,  sometimes,  too ; 
E  have  not  felt  quite  as  well  as  usual  lately, 
and  they  are  very  careful  of  me.  But  we  will 
go  when  we  can,  both  of  us,  wont  we  ?" 

Eunice  assented,  and  told  llhoda  of  her 
singing  engagements  with  Miss  Lynde. 

"  How  nice  !  I  am  so  glad  for  you.  What 
a  dear  friend  she  is,  isn't  she  ?" 

Another  hearty  assent.  "  How  beautifully 
she  explained,  lust  Sunday,"  continued  Eunice, 


122  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"  about  the  use  of  Lent ;  and  how  earnestly  she 
talked  to  us." 

"Yes:  you  know,  Eunice,  that  you  and  I 
are  the  only  ones  in  the  class  who  are  confirmed, 
and  communicants ;  and  Miss  Lynde  is  very 
anxious  to  have  Celia  and  Kitty,  and  the  rest 
prepared  to  come  forward  to  the  Confirmation, 
just  after  Easter." 

"  Perhaps  ive  can  help  influence  them ;  let 
us  watch  and  see." 

"  Yes,  we  will,"  replied  Khoda,  "  but,  do  you 
know,  I  think  you  can  do  more  in  influencing 
them  than  I  can ;  for  when  I  say  anything,  they 
give  me  a  pitying  sort  of  look,  as  much  as  to 
say :  '  No  wonder  you  think  of  such  things, 
with  one  foot  in  the  grave,  as  it  were.' " 

"But  you  are  strong  and  well  as  any  of 
them !  O  Ehoda  !"  Eunice  could  not  repress  a 
shudder;  "how  can  you  speak  so?  It  does 
seem  as  if  it  could  not  be  as  you  think ;  how 
should  the  doctors  know  ?" 

"  They  don't  know  ; — they  cannot  tell  how 
long  I  may  live  ; — it  may  be  years — it  may  be 
but  a  few  hours. 


RHODA.  123 

"  Why  should  you  feel  so  badly  to  hear  me 
speak  of  it,  dear  ?  I  am  not  afraid  ;  my  Father 
knows  the  time, — the  best  time. 

"  And  after  all,  which  of  us  can  tell  how  soon 
we  may  be  called  to  die  ?  We  all  need  to  be 
rejuly,  just  the  same." 

Here  little  Florie  ran  in,  claiming  her  sister's 
attention,  which  claim  was  never  disregarded. 

Eunice  sat  by,  watching  the  movements  of 
her  friend,  as  hi  a  dream. 

"Poor  Jack  in  the  box!  Does  he  want  to 
come  out  and  get  some  fresh  air  ? 

"  But  he  is  not  hopelessly  imprisoned,"  con- 
tinued Ehocla,  playfully.  "  Take  care,  pet ;  he 
will  spring  out  and  bump  your  little  nose. 
There!" 

And  the  bent  catch  being  unfastened,  up  flew 
the  cover,  to  the  child's  great  delight. 

RlioJa's  eyes  reflected  the  light-hearted  glee 
of  little  Florie,  as  she  turned  again  to  Eunice. 

Others  of  the  family  soon  came  in,  and  the 
talk  became  general.  Indeed,  it  was  not  often 
that  Bhoda  spoke  so  much  and  so  freely  of  her 
owii  feelings,  as  she  had  done  that  afternoon. 


124  EUNICE   SOMEKS. 

Eunice  went  home  with  a  full  heart,  and 
could  not  soon  put  from  her  thoughts  this  con- 
versation with  her  young  friend. 

In  the  evening,  chancing  to  be  alone,  as  she 
supposed,  with  Miss  Dora,  she  began  to  tell 
her  about  Rhoda's  situation. 

It  was  easier  now  to  speak  to  her,  on  any 
subject  upon  which  she  felt  deeply,  than  to  any 
one  else  in  the  house. 

She  was  describing  the  calmness  of  her 
young  friend,  in  speaking  of  her  constant 
danger,  when  Dick  emerged  from  a  comer, 
where  he  had  been  half  asleep  in  an  easy 
chair,  and  joined  in  the  conversation. 

"Is  it  that  quiet  little  Rhoda  Merritt  who  is 
such  a  heroine?"  he  asked. 

Eunice  hesitated ;  she  was  sorry  to  find  that 
he  had  overheard  her,  feeling  that  he  would 
not  understand. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  word  belongs  to 
Rhoda,"  she  said,  at  last;  "not  in  the  sense 
you  mean,  Cousin  Dick." 

"  How  then  would  you  describe  her  ?" 

Eunice  glanced  at  her  Aunt   Dora,  hoping 


KHODA.  125 

slie  would  come  to  the  rescue ;  but  her  head 
was  bent  over  her  work. 

"I  think  she  is  a  real  Christian;"  she 
replied,  in  a  low  voice  ;  and  that  is  why  she  is 
not  afraid  to  die." 

Dick  said  nothing,  but  seemed  waiting  for 
Eunice  to  go  on. 

"  But  it  is  not  only  that  she  seems  willing  to 
die  when  the  time  comes:  she  is  willing  to 
live,  just  as  she  must,  you  know.  I  think  that  is 
the  hardest  thing,  after  all." 

"How  must  she  live  ?" 

"  Why,  I  mean,  that  she  cannot  follow  out  her 
plans; — she  has  to  give  up  so  many  things, 
because  she  must  not  tire  herself,  or  get 
excited.  But  she  is  so  gentle  and  sweet ;  and  so 
patient  with  the  children.  I  think  it  is  lovely !" 

"  And  that,  you  would  say,  is  an  example  of 
Christian  faith  ?"  said  Dick. 

There  was  no  levity  in  his  tone  ;  and  Eunice, 
meeting  his  glance,  as  she  answered  "Yes," 
was  thrilled  with  a  new  pleasure. 

"Did  Cousin  Dick  understand?  Did  he 
really  care  ?" 


126 


EUNICE  SOMERS. 


And  while  she  rejoiced  that  he  could  appre- 
ciate the  character  of  her  young  friend,  Eunice 
felt  humbled  to  think  how  little  of  the  fruits  of 
faith  he  had  witnessed,  in  his  daily  intercourse 
with  herself. 


CHAPTEE  X. 


"  Think  that  He  thy  ways  beholdeth: 
He  unfoldeth 

Every  fault  that  lurks  within  ; 
He  the  hidden  shame  glossed  over 
Can  discover, 
And  discern  each  deed  of  sin." 

JN  the  services  of  Ash  Wednesday, 
Eunice  sang  for  the  first  time,  beside 
her  friend,  in  the  choir. 
It  was  a  new  experience  to  her,  and  the 
novelty  might  have  drawn  off  her  thoughts,  in 
a  great  degree,  from  the  solemn  service,  but 
for  the  example  of  reverent  attention  and 
devotion,  which  she  had  in  Miss  Lynde. 

It  was  easy  for  her  to  follow  the  chants  and 
tunes,  which  were  simple  and  familiar;  and 
Miss  Lynde  thanked  her,  after  church,  saying  : 
"  I  know  you  will  help  me  very  much  ;  and  our 

(127) 


T23  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

church  is  small ;  I  do  not  think  it  will  straic 
your  voice  to  sing  in  it.  Did  you  not  find  it 
easy?" 

"  O  yes  !     I  am  sure  it  will  do  me  no  harm." 

"  "We  must  try  to  feel  what  a  privilege  it  is  to 
help  thus  in  the  worship  of  God's  house,"  said 
Miss  Lynde,  affectionately,  drawing  the  hand  of 
her  companion  within  her  arm,  as  they  turned 
towards  home  :  "  and  we  must  try  to  '  sing  with 
the  spirit,  and  with  the  understanding  also,'  and 
not  render  a  heartless  or  unmeaning  service." 

"What  a  privilege  it  is!"  This  was,  to  say 
the  truth,  a  new  thought  to  Eunice ;  she  had 
felt  just  a  little  lifted  up  at  the  idea  of  helping 
the  choir,  as  if  she  were  doing  something  worthy 
of  thanks  and  praise. 

Was  she  alone  and  singular  in  this  respect  ? 
Is  it  not  too  generally  the  feeling  of  those  whom 
God  has  gifted  with  '  tuneful  powers,'  that  they 
confer  a  favor  upon  Him,  or  at  least,  upon  His 
worshipping  assembly,  by  employing  this  talent 
in  the  service  of  His  courts  ? 

"  Aunt  Dora,"  whispered  Eunice,  that  evening, 
"  what  will  you  do  now  about  our  quiet  hour?"  . 


LENTEN  LESSONS.  129 

The  daily  service  at  church  being  appointed 
at  eight,  would  interfere  with  the  usual  reading 
in  Miss  Dora's  room. 

"  Of  course,  dear,  we  will  give  way  to  the 
public  worship,  and  attend  that,  when  we  can. 
And  we  will  try  to  secure  a  few  moments  at  the 
'  ninth  hour,' — that  is  about  three  o'clock,  for 
our  reading,  if  you  like." 

Thus  Eunice  began  her  Lent,  fully  purposing 
to  make  a  diligent  use  of  all  her  privileges  and 
means  of  grace,  and  to  abstain  from  everything 
which  might  hinder  her  in  fulfilling  this  pur- 
pose. 

"Was  she  tempted  to  self-complacence  in  view 
of  her  resolves  and  arrangements  ?  If  so, 
before  many  days,  she  had  a  lesson  upon  her 
own  weakness. 

She  had  met  one  of  her  classmates,  Celia 
Aruott,  at  the  church  door,  after  service  one  morn- 
ing, and  walked  with  her  on  her  way  to  school. 

The  opportunity  offered  for  a  few  serious 
words, — using  her  Christian  influence,  as  Rhoda 
Lad  urged  her  to  do.;  and  Eunice  had  not 
shrunk  from  the  duty. 


130  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

Returning  home,  with  a  secret  self-satisfaction 
at  her  heart,  she  laid  aside  her  things,  and 
sought  the  rest  of  the  family. 

Mrs.  Hartwell  and  Miss  Dora,  as  she  recol- 
lected, had  gone  on  some  errands  after  church. 
Mrs.  Ellett's  door  was  locked,  and  her  gentle 
voice  responded  to  Eunice's  knock  :  "  In  a  few 
moments,  my  love :  I  am  sorry  I  am  not  quite 
ready !" 

So  Eunice  strolled  down-stairs:  the  library 
door  was  open,  and  she  went  in,  and  looked 
around. 

"Dear  books!  Dear  old  chair!  I  wish  I 
could  sit  right  down  and  go  to  work !  Ah ! 
There  is  the  book  uncle  was  speaking  of,  as  so 
interesting  1" 

Eunice  peeped  within  the  covers ;  a  sentence 
attracted  her,  and  she  read  it.  and  then  another, 
and  a  page  beyond ;  and  so  on,  forgetful  of  all 
else,  until  brought  to  herself  by  a  sudden  dart- 
ing pain  through  her  eyes. 

At  the  same  moment,  she  heard  her  Aunt 
Edith's  voice,  as  she  opened  the  hall  door; 
and,  conscious  how  long  she  must  have  been 


LENTEN  LESSONS.  131 

reading,  she  sped  up-stairs  to  her  own  room, 
like  a  guilty  thing. 

"  How  could  I?  oh,  how  could  I  do  it! "  sho 
exclaimed,  penitently  bathing  the  ill-used  eyes. 
"  When  I  cannot  even  read  my  Bible,  and 
ought  to  try  so  hard  to  get  well! " 

Very  humbling  were  her  reflections,  as  she 
dwelt  upon  her  fault,  while  awaiting  her  Aunt 
Edith's  summons  to  her  history  lesson  ;  but 
perhaps  they  were  more  profitable,  and  more  in 
accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  season,  than 
the  feelings  of  some  previous  hours. 

This  was  Friday.  The  next  morning,  after 
service,  Eunice  went  home  with  Miss  Lynde, 
for  her  music  lesson,  as  she  styled  it,  and  as  in 
truth  it  was  ;  although  the  appellation  excited 
the  teacher's  merriment. 

"  Pray  do  not  describe  my  method  of  teach- 
ing, my  dear,"  she  said,  "  if  you  undertake  to 
recommend  me  as  a  music  teacher;  —  or  at 
least  explain  that  my  pupil  was  forbidden  to 
use  her  eyes!  By  the  way,  how  are  those 
eyes?  I  have  been  hoping  to  hear  you  say 
that  they  were  ever  so  much  better !  " 


132  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"  They  are  not  better  to-day"  replied  Eunice, 
blushing; — "and  it  is  all  through  my  fault," 
she  continued,  moved  to  confess  her  wrong- 
doing to  this  kind  and  true  friend. 

"  That  is  a  specimen  of  my  self-denial ;  — 
losing  all  that  my  eyes  held  gained,  in  reading  a 
romance  ; — and  one,  too,  that  uncle  had  prom- 
ised to  read  aloud  to  us,  some  time ! 

"  Oh,  Miss  Lynde !  the  harder  I  try  to  be 
good,  the  worse  I  grow !  " 

"  Not  so,  my  darling !  But  the  more  sincerely 
you  try  to  be  good,  the  more  plainly  you  see 
that  you  'have  no  power  to  help  yourself,'  as 
our  collect  for  to-morrow  expresses  it: — have 
you  studied  that  collect  yet  ?  " 

Eunice  had  not ;  and  her  friend  brought  the 
book,  proposing  that  they  should  go  over  the 
lesson  together. 

"  Please  read  it  again  :  what  a  precious  col- 
lect that  is !  "  said  Eunice,  earnestly. 

"  Almighty  God,  who  seest  that  we  have  no 
power  of  ourselves  to  help  ourselves,  keep  us 
both  outwardly  in  our  bodies,  and  inwardly  in 
our  souls  >  that  we  may  be  defended  fcoin  lull 


LENTEN  LESSONS.  133 

adversities  which  may  happen  to  the  body,  and 
from  all  evil  thoughts  which  may  assault  and 
hurt  the  soul ;  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

"  Yes ;  it  is  a  precious  collect !  "  said  Miss 
Lynde  ;  "  it  is  just  what  my  dear  girl  wants,  in 
every  way ;  is  it  not  ?  "  she  added,  putting  her 
hand,  meaningly,  upon  her  companion's  eyes. 

"I  do  not  deserve  to  have  the  prayer 
answered  in  that  way ! "  said  Eunice. 

"  No,  dear ;  and  we  do  not  ask  for  our  deserts, 
but  for  mercies  through  Christ  our  Lord,  and 
in  submission  to  His  will ! 

"  I  think  there  is  no  collect  which  I  love 
more  than  this  ; "  continued  Miss  Lynde,  mus- 
ingly ;  — "  it  always  reminds  me  of  a  dear  friend, 
to  whom  it  was  very  precious. 

"She  lay,  helpless  and  suffering,  upon  her 
death-bed ;  and  when  this  Second  Sunday  in 
Lent  came,  she  asked,  as  usual,  to  have  its 
special  portion  read  to  her. 

"Repeating  the  words  of  this  collect,  she 
exclaimed  with  a  bright  and  happy  smile : 
1  Oh !  is  not  that  just  what  I  want  ?  Those 
words  are  meant  for  me,  now ! '  " 


134  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Lynde ! "  cried  Eunice,  do  you 
know  about  Elioda  Merritt  ?  I  mean  what  the 
physicians  think  about  her?  Isn't  it  terrible ! '' 

"  It  does  not  seem  to  be,  to  her,  my  dear ; 
she  is  able  to  trust  herself  in  the  Lord's  hands." 

"  Oh,  yes !  And,  Miss  Lynde,  seeing  her  act 
and  feel  as  she  does,  makes  me  feel  sure, — 
more  so  than  I  ever  did  before, — about  the 
things  we  believe !  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  does,  dear  ;  we  can  none 
of  us  tell  how  much  good  has  been  done  by  the 
example  of  her  simple,  earnest  faith  and  piety." 

Eunice  thought  of  Dick's  interest  in  her 
account  of  Rhoda,  and  was  about  to  speak  of 
it ;  but  checked  herself. 

She  had  fancied  there  was  more  than  a 
cousinly  esteem  and  interest  in  this  case,  and 
shrank  from  mentioning  what  might  have  been 
but  the  impression  of  the  moment,  lest  she 
should  awaken  hopes  without  foundation. 

The  pleasant  and  profitable  morning  having 
passed,  Eunice  was  on  the  point  of  returning 
home,  when  the  door-bell  sounded,  and  Mr. 
Bobertson  entered. 


LENTEN  LESSONS.  135 

He  greeted  bis  young  parishioners  warmly, 
but  refused  a  seat;  saying  that  lie  had  just 
stopped  for  a  moment,  on  business. 

"  Miss  Scott  has  sent  me  word  that  she  is  too 
ill  to  be  out  to-morrow,  and  wishes  me  to  try 
to  supply  a  teacher  for  her  class.  I  hardly 
know  where  to  look  for  one  ;  can  you  suggest 
a  suitable  person  ?  We  must  not  have  thai  class 
neglected !" 

Miss  Lynde  shook  her  head  in  a  doubtful 
way ;  then  her  face  brightened,  and  she  said : 
"  I  can  lend  you  this  scholar  of  mine,  if  you 
will  persuade  her  to  undertake  the  charge." 

"I9  Why,  Miss  Lynde!  How  can  you 
think  of  such  a  thing  1  I  am  not  fit  for  a 
teacher !" 

"You  are  accustomed  to  little  ones,  and 
know  their  ways.  Miss  Scott  has  the  Infant 
Class,  you  know ;  I  really  think,  Eunice  dear, 
that  you  would  manage  it  very  well." 

"But  my  eyes!"  remonstrated  Eunice.  I 
cannot  read,  their  lessons ;  or  ought  not  to !" 
she  added,  blushing  as  she  thought  she  detected 
a  twinkle  of  fun  in  the  glance  of  her  friend. 


136  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"Miss  Scott  is  merely  drilling  these  little 
ones  upon  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Creed, 
at  present,"  said  Mr.  Robertson ;  "  you  could 
teach  those  without  eyes : — then  they  sing 
some  little  hymns,  which  you  can  omit,  if 
they  are  not  familiar  to  you;  but  you  can 
easily  occupy  the  time,  and  interest  them,  by 
telling  them  some  Bible  story,  or  talking  to 
them. 

"  I  shall  be  veiy  glad,  if  you  will  attend  to 
the  class  to-morrow,  Miss  Eunice.  I  do  not 
want  those  little  ones  to  become  scattered,  or 
disaffected; — if  you  will  try  to  interest  them 
to-morrow,  we  will  hope  Miss  Scott  will  be  able 
to  resume  her  charge  by  another  Sunday." 

Eunice  at  length  cemented,  though  with  a 
good  deal  of  reluctance,  to  undertake  the  class, 
provided  Mr.  Robertson  failed  to  find  some 
one  more  experienced. 

It  is  my  belief  that  the  reverend  gentleman 
did  not  exert  himself  very  much  in  the  matter. 
He  was  satisfied,  from  Miss  Lynde's  manner, 
that  Eunice  could  do  what  he  wanted;  and 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  her. 


LENTEN  LESSONS.  137 

•» 

After  he  had  gone,  Eunice  looked  reproach- 
fully at  her  friend. 

"  How  covld  you,  Miss  Lynde  ?  Just  think 
how  embarrassed  I  shall  feel!  And  then  I 
must  be  absent  from  your  class,  too !" 

"Well,  rny  dear,  I  thought  you  wanted  some- 
thing to  do  for  the  Master ; — a  little  piece  of 
Lenten  work !" 

Eunice  could  not  reply  to  this  remark,  and 
the  smile  which  accompanied  it. 

Eunice  did  find  herself  rather  embarrassed 
when  she  was  ushered  into  the  separate  room 
used  by  the  Infant  Class,  and  met  the  gaze  of 
some  twenty  pair  of  roguish  eyes. 

But  very  soon  she  contrived  to  fix  their  at- 
tention upon  the  lesson,  and  became  really 
interested  in  drawing  out  their  answers. 

At  the  first  pause,  one  little  fellow  shouted : 

"  Now,  teacher,  can't  we  sing  ?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  do  not  know  your  hymns," 
replied  Eunice ;  "  what  would  you  like  to 
sing?" 

"  Let  us  sing 

'  Jesus,  high  in  glory  ? ' " 


138  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

Eunice  happened  to  know  the  hymn,  which 
she  had  often  sung  with  the  little  ones  at 
home. 

She  knew  that  they  were  accustomed  to  the 
same  tune,  for  she  had  often  heard  them 
singing,  while  in  her  own  class. 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  but  the  children 
were  eagerly  watching  for  her  to  begin,  so  she 
started  the  hymn,  and  went  on  with  confidence 
as  she  found  herself  supported  at  once  by  a 
chorus  of  infant  voices. 

Miss  Lynde  heard  the  strain,  as  she  was  en- 
gaged in  her  own  duties ;  and  smiled  to  her- 
self at  the  success  of  her  scheme. 

Miss  Scott  was  not  able  to  be  out  the  next 
Sunday,  nor  for  two  or  three  weeks  afterward  ; 
and  Eunice  became  very  much  interested  in 
her  new  work,  and  proved  quite  an  efficient 
substitute. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


"  Part*  of  a  chord,  whose  harmonies 
Yield  to  the  Master's  hand  alone, 
As,  with  attentive  ear,  He  tries 
Note  after  note,  till  all  are  one." 

HE  eyes  were  gaining;  —  jes,  they 
were  certainly  stronger!  Eunice 
was  allowed  to  use  them,  in  a  good 
light,  for  half  an  hour  at  a  time  ;  and  when  no 
ill  effects  resulted,  her  friends  congratulated  her 
upon  the  restoration  of  her  old  privileges. 

"But  you  must  be  very  careful,  my  «?ear 
child  ;  a  very  little  imprudence  might  deprive 
you  again  of  the  use  of  your  eyes,  and  subject 
you  to  all  this  suffering  and  annoyance  once 
more." 

Eunice   assented  to  her  aunt's   observation, 

(139) 


140  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

feeling  happy  enough  to  promise  any  amount 
of  caution. 

She  was  not  to  resume  her  drawing  lessons 
yet ;  that  was  hardly  safe ;  indeed,  as  there 
now  wanted  but  three  weeks  to  Easter,  it  would 
have  been  scarcely  worth  while. 

Not  much  was  said  in  allusion  to  her  return 
home,  but  Eunice  felt  that  she  ought  to  go  soon 
after  Easter. 

To  her  other  studies  she  applied  her- 
self with  great  diligence ;  and  her  music  lessons 
now  well  deserved  the  name,  for  she  was  be- 
coming well  grounded  in  the  rudiments  of  the 
science,  and  improving  her  voice  and  taste,  as 
well.  Miss  Lynde  was  not  one  to  do  things  by 
halves. 

"  A  letter  from  Mansfield !  "Who  speaks  first  ?" 
said  Mr.  Hartwell,  holding  up  the  missive,  as 
he  entered  the  family  room. 

"Why,  I  had  one  yesterday!"  exclaimed 
Eunice,  stretching  out  a  hand  for  it,  neverthe- 
less. 

It  was  but  a  brief  note,  saying  that  two  of 
the  children  were  taken  ill  the  day  before  its 


ANXIOUS  DAYS.  141 

date,  and  the  physician  pronounced  their  attack 
to  be  scarlet-fever. 

The  rest  of  the  family  had  been  exposed  ;  and 
Mrs.  Sorners  evidently  wrote  in  all  the  anxiety 
which  the  appearance  of  that  dreaded  malady  is 
sure  to  awaken. 

"  We  will  write  again  to-morrow,"  the  letter 
concluded  ;  "  by  which  time  we  can  better  judge 
how  the  fever  will  go  with  them." 

Eunice  wus  almost  in  a  fever  herself  with 
impatient  anxiety  for  the  next  tidings,  and  her 
auut  was  scarcely  less  anxious. 

The  next  letter  was  not  received  until  the 
second  day  after :  it  was  but  a  line,  from  Mr. 
Somers,  to  say  that  the  children,  Ranney  and 
Bess,  were  very  ill  indeed. 

"  Oh,  auntie !"  exclaimed  Eunice,  with  tearful 
excitement,  "  I  must  go  home  at  once,  to  help 
mother  take  care  of  them !" 

"  No,  my  dear  chDd ;  I  knew  of  course  that 
you  would  wish  to  go,  if  we  had  no  more 
cheerful  tidings  to-day,  and  your  uncle  and  I 
have  talked  it  all  over. 

"  Your  uncle  has  seen  Dr.  Williams,  and  he 


142  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

quite  agrees  with  us  that  there  would  be  a  good 
deal  of  danger  in  exposing  you  to  scarlet-fever 
in  the  present  state  of  your  eyes.  I  think,  too, 
your  mother  would  not  wish  you  to  come  home ; 
— she  will  be  thankful  to  feel  that  one  child  has 
escaped  the  infection.  So,  my  dear,  I  am  going 
to  Mansfield,  myself,  to  stay  with  your  mother 
until  the  children  are  well  again,  which  we  will 
hope  may  be  very  soon." 

"  But,  auntie,  you  may  take  the  fever  your- 
self !  Oh,  I  do  think  I  ought  to  go !" 

"  I  shall  not  be  likely  to  take  it,  my  love,  and 
we  are  quite  sure  that  this  is  the  best  plan. 
Your  part  will  be  to  help  Aunt  Dora  with  the 
housekeeping,  and  in  taking  care  of  Aunt 
Mildred,  while  I  am  gone.  And  you  must  keep 
a  cheerful  face,  to  make  sunshine  for  Uncle 
Hansom  when  he  comes  home,  so  that  he  will 
not  miss  me  too  much." 

Eunice  could  not  reply  at  once.  She  felt,  as 
she  would  have  expressed  it,  all  in  a  whirl ; 
but  Aunt  Edith's  next  remark  brought  her  to 
herself : — 

"  I  want  to  get  off  this  afternoon,  if  possible ; 


ANXIOUS  DAYS.  143 

BO  come,  my  dear !  I  shall  need  to  keep  you 
busy  every  moment." 

It  was  well  for  Eunice  that  she  had  not  much 
time  to  reflect  upon  the  fact  that  Aunt  Edith 
was  really  going  to  her  home ;  and  that  the 
children  were  dangerously  ill,  and  she  must  not 
go  to  them. 

"Now,  Eunice  dear,"  said  Aunt  Edith,  the 
while  methodically  sorting  from  her  drawers 
the  articles  which  she  would  need  for  her 
journey,  "  I  have  not  asked  much  help  of  you 
in  the  way  of  household  duties  this  winter ;  but 
I  don't  think  you  have  forgotten  your  domestic 
accomplishments  ;  and  I  must  depend  upon  you 
to  take  charge  of  some  things  while  I  am  gone." 

"  I'm  sure  I  shall  be  glad  to,  auntie ;  I  feel 
as  if  I  ought  to  work  all  the  time,  as  hard  as  I 
can!" 

"  There  is  no  need  of  that,  dear,  and  I  think 
you  will  have  plenty  of  time  for  study.  But  I 
want  you  to  take  care  of  my  china  closet ;  as  I 
do,  every  morning,  you  know.  Aunt  Dora  will 
have  quite  too  much  to  do  to  attend  to  that, 
and  I  should  not  like  the  nice  china  and  silver 


144  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

taken  into  the  kitchen.  And  I  want  you  to  take 
charge  of  the  library,  too ;  and  keep  it  nicely 
dusted  and  in  order." 

"  Is  that  all,  Aunt  Edith  ?  Can't  you  give 
me  something  more  to  do  ?" 

"  That  is  all  that  I  want  to  depend  upon  you 
for,  my  dear.  To  do  these  things  well  will 
require  considerable  time  and  care.  But  I  dare 
say  Aunt  Dora  will  be  glad  of  your  help,  every 
day,  in  various  ways :  I  think  you  will  be  able 
to  help  her  most  by  staying  with  Aunt  Mildred 
occasionally.  You  could  wait  upon  her  very 
handily;  and  I  know  she  likes  very  much  to 
have  you  with  her." 

Again  Eunice  felt  herself  reproved,  on  this 
point.  She  might  have  devoted  a  little  more 
time  and  attention  to  the  invalid,  who  had 
been  so  very  kind  to  her. 

Mrs.  Hartwell  started  by  the  afternoon 
train.  After  she  had  left  the  house,  Eunice 
tried  to  recall  her  wandering  thoughts,  and 
attend  to  her  lessons,  but  she  succeeded  but 
poorly. 

At  her  recitation  hour,  she  was  obliged  to 


ANXIOUS  DATS.  145 

confess  that  she  had  not  prepared  much  of  a 
lesson. 

"  This  has  been  a  very  busy  day,"  said  Mr. 
Hartwell ;  "  you  are  very  excusable,  my  dear." 

"  I  had  time  enough,  after  auntie  was  gone," 
said  Eunice,  truthfully ;  "  but — but  I  couldn't 
seem  to  fix  my  miud  on  anything !" 

Mr.  Hartwell  observed  the  tears  which  would 
start,  and  said,  kindly  : 

"  My  dear  child,  you  have  a  new  lesson  of 
patient  trust  to  learn  now.  You  must  try  to 
trust  the  dear  absent  ones  to  their  Heavenly 
Father's  love,  and  not  be  too  anxious  about 
them.  If  I  thought  it  were  best  for  you,  I 
would  permit  you  to  lay  aside  your  studies, 
through  this  time  of  trial.  But  do  you  not 
think  it  would  be  much  better  to  go  calmly  on 
with  your  accustomed  duties,  than  to  sit  with 
folded  hands  and  tearful  eyes,  waiting  for  tid- 
ings?" 

"  I  suppose  it  would,  uncle ;  and  I  really 
will  try." 

Miss  Dora  called  Eunice  at  an  earlier  horn 
than  usual,  the  next  morning. 
10 


146  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

"  Come,  my  dear !  If  you  are  to  be  assistant 
housekeeper,  you  must  spring  up  in  good  season, 
or  you  will  not  be  ready  for  church." 

"  Why,  Aunt  Dora  !  I  can't  go  to  church 
this  morning;  I  have  to  wash  the  break- 
fast things,  you  know,  and  I  shall  not  be 
ready !" 

"  Yes,  you  can,  dear,  by  being  prompt,  and 
having  everything  ready  in  your  room  before 
breakfast.  Your  Aunt  Edith  managed  it,  you 
know.  If  there  was  a  little  extra  to  be  done, 
she  attended  to  it  after  she  came  home." 

"I'm  not  so  smart  as  Aunt  Eilith  !"  rejoined 
Eunice,  in  not  the  most  pleasant  of  tones  ;  but 
the  words  and  the  tone  were  lost  upon  the  busy 
monitor,  who  was  on  her  way  down-stairs. 

"  I  don't  see,"  murmured  the  girl,  as  she 
began  to  dress,  "  how  I  can  do  my  housework, 
and  study,  and  go  to  church,  too !  I  don't 
think  it  is  my  duty  to  try  !" 

But  that  word  'duty'  struck  a  chord  which 
kept  on  vibrating,  to  her  great  disturbance. 

That  sermon  of  Mr.  Robertson's,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  Lent;  it  had  not  before  crossed 


ANXIOUS  DAYS.  147 

Eunice,  in  her  purposes  and  plans  ;  but  now  it 
would  recur  to  her  inind. 

His  text  had  been :  "  Ye  shall  go  and  pray 
unto  me,  and  I  will  hearken  unto  you." 

He  had  dwelt  especially  upon  the  duty  of 
'going1 — stepping  out  of  the  routine  even  of 
necessary  work, — to  join  in  the  prayers  and 
devotions  of  the  Church,  at  this  season. 

Heretofore  it  had  been  very  pleasant  for 
Eunice  to  attend  the  eight  o'clock  service ; 
being  quite  at  leisure  afterward  to  walk  home 
with  Rhoda,  or  with  Miss  Lynde ;  in  fact,  she 
had  chosen  this  time,  directly  after  church,  for 
her  musical  practice,  twice  a  week,  or  some- 
times oftener. 

But  now  she  would  be  obliged  to  come 
directly  home,  and  finish  her  morning  duties, 
taking  some  time  later  in  the  day  for  her  other 
calls  abroad. 

Eunice's  reflections  upon  the  sermon  changed 
her  views  as  to  the  matter  of  duty,  before  she 
was  ready  to  go  down-stairs.  She  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  one  could  hardly  be  said  to 
"search  for  the  Lord  with  all  the  heart,"  who 


148  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

went  to  tlie  services  only  when  it  was  perfectly 
convenient. 

"  That  is  right,  my  love !"  said  Miss  Dora, 
seeing  Eunice  emerge  from  her  room  as  the 
bell  began  to  ring,  all  ready  for  church. 

"  You  see  I  cannot  put  my  own  doctrines  in 
practice  this  morning ;  I  cannot  leave  my  poor 
sister,  to  go  to  church." 

"  Is  Aunt  Mildred  feeling  more  poorly  than 
usual  ?"  asked  Eunice. 

"  Yes,  I  am  afraid  she  is ;  she  had  quite  a 
faint  turn  just  now." 

"  Well,  Aunt  Dora,  I  will  come  directly  home 
after  church,  and  perhaps  I  can  help  you  take 
care  of  her." 

"Are  you  coming  home  with  me  to  practice 
this  morning?"  asked  Miss  Lynde,  after 
church. 

Eunice  explained  her  additional  home  duties, 
'and  added:  "I  should  like  to  come  at  one 
o'clock,  if  you  will  be  at  leisure  then  ;  that  is,  I 
will  try  to,  if  I  can  be  spared." 

"  Very  well,  dear ;  I  will  expect  you  punctu- 
ally at  one,  if  you  can  come.  I  dare  say  you 


ANXIOUS  DATS.  149 

will  find  yourself  quite  busy  while  your  aunt  is 
away,  and  I  ain  glad  to  see  you  are  taking  up 

the  new  duties  so  cheerfully  !" 

> 

Mrs.  Ellett  was  hardly  fit  to  be  left  alone., 
that  morning;  and  when  Eunice  had  dusted 
the  library,  and  was  ready  to  study,  she  pro- 
posed to  take  her  books  up  and  sit  with  her,  to 
be  ready  if  anything  was  needed. 

"  Well,  if  you  will,  my  dear,  I  shall  be  very 
glad ;  for  I  ought  to  go  down-stairs  awhile  to 
attend  to  things." 

Not  much  chance  had  Eunice  to  study,  how- 
ever ;  the  good  lady,  in  the  first  place,  was  very 
glad  to  see  her,  for  a  little  talk  about  the  news 
from  her  home,  and  so  on. 

Then,  when  Eunice  had  settled  herself  by 
the  window,  with  her  books,  the  interruptions 
were  very  frequent. 

Mrs.  Ellett,  being  really  in  a  nervous  and 
suffering  condition,  seemed  quite  to  forget  that 
she  was  trying  to  prepare  her  lessons,  and 
required  one  little  service,  and  then  another,  to 
the  great  hindrance  of  the  student. 

At  last  she  laid  aside  her  books,  and   re- 


150  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

mained  beside  the  invalid,  bathing  her  head; 
and  trying  to  amuse  and  cheer  her,  until  Miss 
Dora  came  np. 

"  Now,  Euuie,  I  will  stay  here ;  you  can  go 
and  finish  your  lessons." 

"  Ah !  I'm  afraid  I  have  hindered  you, 
dearie  ; "  said  Aunt  Mildred ;  "  but  you  have 
been  a  real  comfort  to  me; — thank  you,  my 
child  1  " 

Only  half  an  hour  to  study ;  then  she  must 
run  down  to  Miss  Lynde's  for  a  short  practice ; 
then  back  again  to  her  lessons. 

The  reading  with  Aunt  Dora  had  been  given 
up,  when  Eunice  was  permitted  to  use  her  eyes 
once  more. 

"  You  will  do  better  now  to  read  at  your  own 
time,  and  in  your  own  '  closet,'  my  love,"  Miss 
Dora  had  said. 

If  Eunice  was  tempted  to  overlook  or  slight 
her  private  devotions,  while  she  remained  at 
her  uncle's,  an  occasional  glimpse  of  Aunt  Dora 
stealiog  away  from  her  pressing  occupations  for 
her  few  moments  of  refreshment,  reminded  her 
of  the  neglected  duty. 


ANXIOUS  DAYS.  151 

The  day  above  described  was  a  fair  specimen 
of  the  next  two  weeks,  except  that,  some  days, 
Mrs.  Ellett  was  even  more  poorly,  requiring 
constant  nursing;  and  that  more  than  once 
Eunice  was  obliged  to  give  up  her  singing 
lesson. 

Mrs.  Hartwell,  or  Mrs.  Somers  herself,  wrote 
frequently. 

Bess  was  decidedly  better  ;  Ranney  was  over 
the  fever,  but  the  letters  alluded  in  rather 
doubtful  terms  to  him ;  George  had  taken  his 
turn,  and  was  very  sick  for  a  few  days  ;  and,  at 
the  last  account,  the  two  little  ones  were  taken 
down. 

The  Collect  for  the  Fifth  Sunday  in  Lent  was 
a  comfort  to  Eunice  through  these  busy,  anx- 
ious days :  it  was,  as  she  said  to  Miss  Lynde, 
so  much  like  the  one  for  the  Second  Sunday. 

That  had  expressed  so  well  her  own  personal 
wants  ;  but  now  she  used  the  seasonable  words 
to  plead  for  the  dear  ones  who  were  laid  low, 
and  it  was  such  a  comfort  to  feel  that,  in  soul 
and  body,  they  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord. 


CHAPTEK   XII. 


'When  our  heads  are  bowed  with  wo«, 
When  our  bi*ter  tears  o'erflow  ; 
When  we  mourn  the  lost  and  dear, 
Jesu,  Son  of  Mary,  hear  I 

'  Thou  hast  bowed  the  dying  head, 
Thou  the  blood  of  life  hast  shed, 
Thou  hast  filled  a  mortal  bier  ; 
Jesu,  Son  of  Mary,  hear  1" 

[HE    Holy    "Week   of   our    Saviour's 
Passion  and  death  had  begun. 

Miss  Scott,  the  teacher  of  the 
Infant  Class,  was  present  on  the  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  Eunice  was  relieved  from  her  charge, 
and  able  to  resume  her  place  with  her  old  class- 
mates, and  to  listen  to  their  teacher's  earnest 
comment  upon  "  the  example  of  His  patience." 
Once,  while  Miss  Lynde  was  speaking, 

Eunice  glanced  at  Ehoda.     She  was  listening, 
(152) 


A  MEMORABLE  WEEK.  153 

with  the  calm,  restful  look  which  grew  more 
and  more  habitual  to  her. 

"  She  is  following  the  example  of  His  pa- 
tience," thought  her  friend ;  "  oh,  I  wish  / 
might,  as  truly !  " 

Be  of  good  cheer,  young  Christian  ;  you  are 
learning,  as  Rhoda  said,  in  the  same  school : 
the  lessons  of  the  past  few  weeks  shall  not 
prove  to  have  been  given  in  vain  ! 

Services  were  appointed  for  the  evenings  of 
this  week,  as  well  as  the  mornings  ;  and  Eunice 
requested  that  she  might  give  up  her  lessons, 
for  the  week. 

"If  you  would  like  to  go  to  the  evening 
services,  Eunice,  I  shall  be  at  home  each  even- 
ing to  go  with  you  ;  "  said  Dick. 

"  Thank  you,  cousin ;  I  want  to  go  when  I 
can,  but  I  think  I  ought  to  take  turns  with 
Aunt  Dora,  this  week,  in  staying  with  Aunt 
Mildred." 

"  Well,  then,  I  must  go  all  the  more  regularly, 
as  your  proxy  ;  and  I  may  be  useful  in  escort- 
ing Miss  Dora,  in  her  turn  !  " 

Mr.  Hartwell  expected  to  attend  the  evening 


154  EUNICE  SOMEKS. 

services  himself ;  but  he  was  very  glad  to  hear 
Dick's  offer,  and  to  perceive  that,  under  cover 
of  taking  care  of  Eunice,  there  existed  a  good 
resolve  of  his  own. 

"Wednesday  brought  sad  tidings.  A  telegram 
was  received,  announcing  that  Baby  Walter 
was  dead. 

Eunice  was  at  first  almost  stunned  by  this 
news.  Her  anxieties  had  reached  to  the 
probable  suffering  of  the  children  at  home,  and 
the  care  and  exhaustion  of  the  parents,  but 
she  had  scarcely  entertained  the  thought  of 
death. 

And  could  it  be  that  he  was  gone — the 
bright,  merry  baby  boy,  whom  she  had  dearly 
loved!  That  she  should  never  again  have 
opportunity  to  tend  and  please  him,  and  make 
amends  for  the  grudging  manner  in  which, 
as  she  bitterly  remembered  now,  those  little 
ministries  had  been  too  often  performed  ! 

Eunice  felt  as  if  she  must  go  home,  to  take 
one  parting  look  at  her  dear  little  brother,  and 
follow  him  to  the  grave.  But  her  uncle,  who 
had  brought  home  the  telegram,  and  waited  to 


A  MEMORABLE  WEEK.  155 

soothe  the  sobbing  mourner,  kindly,  but  firmly 
shook  his  head,  ;it  the  first  mention  of  this. 

"  No,  my  daughter,  it  would  not  be  right  to 
run  the  risk ;  do  not  think  of  it ! 

"  Follow  him  in  your  thoughts,  detir  child, — 
follow  the  happy  infant  spirit  to  the  Paradise 
whither  angels  have  borne  it,  and  where  there 
shall  be  no  more  pain." 

As  Eunice  still  sobbed,  almost  convulsively, 
he  bent  over  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"  Eunice  dear,  the  teachings  of  this  week  will 
help  you  to  bear  this  sad  trial,  I  know. 

"  Think  of  Him  who  '  became  obedient  unto 
death;' — think  of  the  words  we  have  just  heard 
read  this  morning :  '  Not  my  will,  but  Thine  be 
done  !' — Hemember  the  example  of  His  pa- 
tience." 

Aye,  indeed !  Mr.  Hartwell  could  not  have 
chosen  his  words  more  wisely  to  hush  the 
tumult  of  grief  and  regret. 

As  lie  stood  beside  Eunice,  waiting,  a  fer^ 
moments,  she  struggled  for  composure,  and 
raising  her  head  presently,  said  in  a  quiet  tone, 
"  Thank  you,  dear  uncle." 


156  EUNICE   SOMEKS. 

He  knew  that  lie  might  safely  leave  her,  then. 
In  a  little  time,  Eunice  went  up  to  Mrs.  Ellett's 
room,  and  offered  to  release  Miss  Dora,  who 
had  been  occupied  very  closely  through  the 
morning,  in  the  sick-room. 

"  My  dear !"  remonstrated  Miss  Dora,  in  a 
low  tone,  "  it  will  be  too  much  for  you  to-day, 
I  am  afraid ;  do  not  try,  if  you  would  rather  be 
alone." 

"  I  think  it  will  be  better  for  me  to  be  trying 
to  help  some  one  else,"  replied  Eunice,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

Miss  Dora  looked  in  her  face  a  moment,  and 
then  said : 

"  I  see !  The  Lord  is  teaching  you  how  to 
bear  this  trouble,"  and  left  her  with  her  charge. 

Eunice  had  no  reason  to  regret  this  effort  on 
her  part. 

Aunt  Mildred  had  lost  all  her  own  children 
in  early  infancy,  and  she  knew  how  to  comfort 
the  bereaved  sister.  She  seemed,  in  turn,  to 
forget  her  own  suffering  in  sympathy  with 
Eunice;  and  she  spoke  so  sweetly  of  the 
ransomed  little  ones  in  Paradise,  of  their 


A  MEMORABLE  WEEK.  157 

safety,  and  secured  bliss,  that  Eunice  felt  she 
would  not  wish  him  back  to  this  troubled 
world  again. 

Miss  Lynde  heard  of  the  little  one's  death, 
and  came  in  the  afternoon  to  offer  her  friendly 
sympathy. 

The  next  day  there  were  letters;  one  for 
Eunice  from  her  mother.  She  knew  it  must 
have  been  written  very  soon  after  the  baby's 
death,  and  felt  gratefully  how  like  her  unselfish 
mother  it  was  to  remember  the  grief  of  her 
absent  one,  in  the  midst  of  her  own  fresh 
sorrow. 

The  other  letter  was  from  Mrs.  Hartwell  to 
her  husband.  He  read  it,  glanced  at  Eunice, 
aud  then,  on  second  thought,  placed  it  in  his 
pocket-book  for  another  time. 

It  Wiis  not  until  the  afternoon  of  Good 
Friday,  that,  after  consultation  with  liis  sisters, 
he  called  Eunice  into  the  library. 

"  My  dear,  I  do  not  know  that  Aunt  Edith 
quite  intended  this  letter  for  your  perusal ;  but 
as  its  subject  very  nearly  concerns  you,  we 
think  it  better  that  you  should  read  just  what 


158  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

she  says,  yourself."  And  he  gave  the  letter 
into  her  hand. 

"You  will  have  received,  ere  this,"  so  the 
letter  began,  "  the  tidings  of  the  death  of 
sister's  youngest  darling. 

"  You  and  I,  love,  know  very  well  what  the 
trial  is.  Madeline  and  her  husband  bear 
it  with  Christian  calmness,  as  we  would  expect 
of  their  long-tried  faith. 

"  George  and  Bessie  are  doing  very  well, 
only  needing  care  to  avoid  the  danger  of  taking 
cold.  Little  Susy  has  had  the  disease  much 
more  lightly  than  the  other  children.  But 
I  feel  anxious  about  Banuey,  your  namesake, 
you  know. 

"  He  is  entirely  free  from  the  fever,  but  it 
appears  he  has  never  been  really  well  since  the 
fall  which  sister  mentioned,  some  weeks  since. 

"  Yery  likely  the  attack  of  fever  has  aggra- 
vated his  previous  ailments ;  but,  whatever  the 
cause,  the  child  is  far  from  well.  He  com- 
plaius  of  feeling  '  so  tired,'  most  of  the  time ; 
and  seems  to  have  a  good  deal  of  pain  at 
intervals. 


A  MEMORABLE  WEEK.  159 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  bring  h'ra  home 
with  me,  for  the  change  of  air,  and  to  obtain 
the  advice  of  our  physicians  in  Holuieford  in 
his  case. 

"I  think  his  parents  would  entrust  him 
to  me,  for,  if  he  has  sustained  some  internal 
injury,  which  is  my  fear,  he  should  be  treated 
accordingly,  without  delay. 

"But  I  know  that  I  shall  be  very  fully 
occupied  when  I  return  home.  Poor  sister 
Mildred,  from  your  account,  must  need  Dora's 
constant  care ;  and  there  is  all  the  spring  work, 
and  the  guests  whom  you  expect  soon. 

"  I  see  but  one  way  to  manage  it.  If  Eunice 
were  to  stay  with  us,  and  devote  herself  to  tha 
care  of  her  brother,  I  could  very  well  give  him 
the  general  oversight  required. 

"  But,  between  us,  Eunice  was  never  remark- 
ably patient  witli  this  little  fellow;  and  now 
his  merry  mischief  of  former  days  has  given 
place  to  a  peevishness  and  irritability,  which 
would  be  much  more  trying  to  her  patience. 

"What  do  you  think  best?  I  shall  only 
await  your  decision  and  reply  to  return  home, 


160  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

as  there  is  no  farther  especial  reason  for  my 
remaining  here." 

Eunice  read  the  letter  through  with  evident 
emotion ;  and  tearfully  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Ransom  !  You  Jcnoio  I  will  do 
everything  I  can  for  Ranney !  May  he  come  ? 
Will  you  write  at  once  ?" 

"  I  will  telegraph,  my  clear,  if  you  are  sure 
you  realize  what  you  are  undertaking. 

"  It  is  not  only  that  your  auntie  will  have  a 
great  deal  to  do,  after  her  return  ;  I  know  very 
well  that  she  will  find  herself  very  much 
fatigued  and  worn,  after  the  care  of  the  past 
three  weeks,  and  I  should  hardly  consent 
to  have  her  continue  the  care  of  a  sick  child, 
in  addition  to  her  home  duties. 

"  That  must  devolve  almost  entirely  upon 
you,  if  he  comes  :  do  you  think  you  can  stand 
the  care  and  confinement,  and  the  giving  up  of 
your  own  pursuits,  in  great  measure  ?" 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  doubt  me,  uncle," 
replied  Eunice,  humbly;  "but  I  do  very  much 
wish  to  try ! 

"It  seems,"  she  added,  after  a  little  pause, 


A  MEMORABLE  WEEK.  161 

"  as  if  God  gave  me  this  opportunity  to  show 
how  sorry  I  am." 

The  message  was  sent  at  once  ;  and  Eunice, 
hopeful  for  her  little  brother,  thankful  that  she 
was  to  be  called  to  minister  to  him  ;  and  com- 
forted concerning  the  dear  ones  at  home,  and 
the  darling  whom  God  had  taken,  prepared  for 
a  blessed  and  happy  Easter. 

But  this  week,  so  fraught  already  rwith 
lessons  for  a  life-time,  was  to  be  marked  by 
one  more  event. 

It  was  towards  evening,  on  Saturday,  that 
Frances  Lynde  called  at  the  house,  to  seek  for 
Eunice. 

"When  ushered  into  the  parlor  she  found 
Dick  North  there,  he  having  returned  earlier 
than  usual,  and  a  little  before  the  hour  for 
dinner. 

"  O  Dick !  she  exclaimed,  on  seeing  him,  "  I 
have  come  with  more  distressing  tidings  for 
that  poor  child.  How  shall  I  tell  her  ?" 

"  You  do  not  mean — is  it  possible  that  that 
little  friend  of  hers  is  gone  ?" 

"  Ehoda  Merritt ;  yes !  I  did  not  know  that 
11 


162  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

you  knew  anything  about  lier ;  she  died  sud- 
denly, this  morning." 

Here  Eunice  entered,  and  Dick  hastily  re- 
treated, more  moved  than  he  wished  to  show, 
himself,  and  unwilling  to  witness  his  young 
cousin's  sorrow. 

Miss  Lynde  drew  Eunice  to  a  seat  beside 
her,  and  threw  her  arms  around  her. 

"  My  darling  girl,  can  you  bear  to  hear  of 
another  bereavement  ?" 

Eunice  gazed  wonderiugly  in  the  face  of  her 
friend,  and  perceiving  that  she  had  been  weep- 
ing, the  truth  flashed  upon  her  mind. 

"  Is  it  Ehoda  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  quiet 
tone,  yet  trembling, — almost  shuddering,  as  she 
spoke. 

"  It  is,  dear ;  the  call  which  she  has  so  long 
expected,  has  come,  aud  we  believe  that  it 
found  her  watching." 

"  '  Blessed  are  those  servants,'  "  Eunice  be- 
gan ;  but  her  voice  broke,  and  she  could  not 
finish  the  quotation. 

"Yes,  indeed!  We  cannot  know  now  how 
blessed,"  rejoined  Miss  Lynde. 


A  MEMORABLE  WEEK.  1G3 

Then,  knowing  that  Eunice  wished  to  hear 
all,  she  went  on  : 

"  It  was  this  morning,  clear  :  you  know  that 
she  was  at  church  yesterday,  in  the  morning ; 
shall  we  ever  forget  that  sweet,  placid  expres- 
sion of  her  face  as  we  saw  her  then  ? 

"  She  awoke  this  morning  feeliug  distressed, 
it  seems.  The  pain  passed  off,  but  she  evidently 
regarded  it  as  premonitory,  and  spoke  of  it 
thus  to  her  friends. 

"  She  lay  on  the  lounge,  as  her  mother 
desired,  although  she  felt  better  after  break- 
fast. 

"Her  mother  did  not  leave  her,  and  her 
father  felt  too  anxious  to  remain  long  from  the 
house.  They  were  both  with  her  when  the 
sudden  attack  came  on  which  speedily  wrought 
the  change. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  the  house.  O  Eunice, 
there  is  no 'bitter ness  in  that  death  !" 

Eunice  was  weeping,  but  quietly. 

"  It  is  Easter  Even,"  she  said. 

"  Yes ;  the  day  of  all  others  that  she,  dear 
child  of  the  Church  as  she  was,  would  have 


EUNICE   SOMEES. 

chosen,  for  her  friends   to   stand  around  her 
mortal  remains.     I  thought  of  the  lines  : 

"  '  Go  to  the  grave  ;  for  there  thy  Saviour  lay 

In  death's  embraces,  ere  He  rose  on  high  : 
And  all  the  ransomed,  by  that  narrow  way 
Pass  to  eternal  life,  beyond  the  sky. 

"  '  Go  to  the  grave  :  no,  take  thy  flight  above  ; 

Be  thy  pure  spirit  present  with  the  Lord  :— 
Where  thou  for  faith  and  hope  hast  perfect  love, 
And  open  vision,  for  the  written  word  !' " 

It  was  a  blessed,  happy  Easter,  not  to  Eunice 
alone,  but  to  all  who  knew  and  loved  the  dear 
young  Christian  who  had  been  taken  from  their 
midst. 

Every  word  of  the  glorious  Easter  service 
spoke  hope  and  comfort  to  their  hearts,  and 
forbade  them  to  mourn. 

The  service  of  the  afternoon  was  especially 
for  the  Sunday-school ;  one  for  which  they  had 
been  preparing  for  some  time.  Mr.  Robertson 
took  the  fitting  occasion  to  speak  to  the  hearts 
of  the  children,  of  the  hope,  the  glorious  hope 
which  had  sustained  and  cheered  their  young 
companion ;  so  long  face  to  face,  as  it  were, 
•with  death. 


A  MEMORABLE  WEEK.  165 

The  funeral  was  appointed  for  Easter  Tues- 
day ;  and  it  was  largely  attended  by  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Sunday-school  and  congregation. 

Eunice  went  to  the  house,  more  than  once, 
in  the  interval,  to  stand  beside  her  dear  youug 
friend,  and  gaze  upon  the  sweet  face,  wearing 
such  a  happy  smile. 

"  You  must  come  often  to  see  us,"  said  the 
bereaved  mother,  "  when  our  darling  is  borne 
away  from  us ;  she  loved  you  very  dearly !" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


gatmeg. 

•  But  when  the  self-abhorring  thrill 
Is  passed,  as  pass  it  must ; 
When  tasks  of  life  thy  spirit  fill, 
Risen  from  thy  tears  and  dust ; 
Then  be  the  self-renouncing  will 
The  seal  of  thy  calm  trust  1" 


[HE  next    day,  Wednesday,   a  week 
from  the  day  of  baby  Walter's  death, 
Aunt  Edith  arrived,  with  her  ch^ge. 
Eunice  was  shocked   at  the   change  in  her 
little  brother,  who  looked  pale   and  thin  and 
listless, — very  different  from  the  merry,  roguish 
child  from  whom  she  had  parted  in  the  autumn. 
He  was  tired  with  his  journey,  Aunt  Edith 
explained ;  it  had  seemed  to  fatigue  him  more 

than  she  anticipated,  although  she  had  arranged 
(166) 


EUNICK  AND  HANNEY. — PAGE  167. 


RANNEY.  167 

her  shawls  as  a  pillow,  that  he  might  lie  down 
a  good  part  of  the  time. 

It  was  late  ill  the  afternoon  when  they 
arrived. 

"Now,  my  little  boy,"  said  Aunt  Edith, 
"  would  you  like  to  go  right  to  bed,  and  rest ; 
and  have  some  dinner  brought  up  to  you,  by- 
and-by?" 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  I'd  rather  stay  and  see  Eunie." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  his  aunt  answered,  smil- 
ing ;  "  I'll  go  and  dispose  of  my  goods  and 
chattels,  and  leave  you  in  her  charge." 

"We'll  sit  on  the  sofa,  Ranney,  and  you 
shall  lay  your  head  on  me,  and  rest  in  that 
way  ; — so.  Dear  little  fellow  !  You  must  make 
haste  and  get  well ;  sister  don't  like  to  see  you 
looking  so  poorly." 

"Then  you  don't  'hate'  me,  Eunie?"  said 
the  child,  scanning  her  face. 

"  Hate  you  ?  No  !  I  love  you  dearly !"  said 
Eunice,  stooping  to  kiss  him. 

How  the  question  hurt  her.  Was  it  possi- 
ble that  he  had  treasured  up  those  hasty  words 
in  his  memory  until  this  time. 


168  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

The  next  day  a  physician  of  some  eminence 
was  called  in,  to  give  his  advice  in  the  case. 

He  of  course  could  not  form  a  decided  opinion 
until  he  had  observed  the  child  for  some  little 
time ;  but,  from  what  Mrs.  Hartwell  was  able 
to  tell  him  of  his  symptoms,  he  agreed  with  her, 
and,  indeed,  with  the  old  family  physician  in 
Mansfield,  in  judging  that  there  had  been  some 
spinal  injury  resulting  from  his  fall,  though  he 
hoped  it  was  slight,  and  would  yield  to  treatment. 

He  could  not  determine,  at  first  sight,  how 
much  of  his  present  feebleness  Avas  due  to  the 
recent  illness. 

In  reply  to  Mr.  Hart  well's  inquiries  as  to 
the  physician's  opinion,  that  evening,  his  wife 
answered  : 

"  As  far  as  I  could  gather  from  what  he  said, 
he  seemed  to  agree  pretty  much  with  old 
Phillis." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  A  nice  old  colored  woman  whom  sister  has 
had  to  help  her,  whenever  she  needed  help  ; — 
or,  more  correctly,  when  she  felt  that  she  could 
afford  to  hire  it. 


RANNEY.  169 

"  She  is  very  fond  of  the  children,  and  has 
kept  an  anxious  eye  upon  B/anney  of  late. 

"  She  seemed  very  much  pleased  to  hear  that 
I  was  to  bring  him  to  Holmeford,  to  see  what 
could  be  done  for  him. 

"'I'm  right  glad,  missis!'  said  she;  'it's 
high  time  that  child  was  seed  to !  He  hasn't 
been  like  himself  since  that  time  he  fell  off  tho 
ladder.  It's  my  belief  that  he  liurted  the  spine 
of  his  back,  more  or  less !'  " 

"  Well,  we  must  have  Dr.  Browne  give  his 
close  attention  to  the  case ;  and,  if  he  desires, 
consult  with  other  physicians.  "We  will  spare 
no  expense  or  effort  to  save  the  little  fellow 
from  a  life  of  suffering.  He  seems  a  very 
pleasant  child !" 

"  He  is ;  though,  as  Phillis  said,  he  is  not 
like  himself  now :  I  never  saw  a  more  bright, 
intelligent  child,  for  his  years." 

Banney  was  of  course  amused  and  interested 
with  the  novelty  of  all  about  him,  having  never 
been  in  a  large  town  before,  and,  after  resting 
from  the  journey,  he  appeared  brighter  and 
better  from  this  cause. 


170  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

To  Eunice  lie  seemed  very  dear  and  loveable. 
Divested  of  the  mischievousness  of  his  healthy 
days,  and  as  yet  showing  no  signs  of  the  fret- 
fulness  which  his  aunt  had  remarked  upon,  she 
wondered  that  the  latter  should  have  fancied  it 
would  be  such  a  trial  to  her  temper  and 
patience  to  take  care  of  him. 

She  had  made  most  determined  resolves  that 
her  whole  time,  if  necessary,  should  be  giveu 
up  to  him ;  and  that  no  unreasonableness  or 
peevishness  on  his  part  should  betray  her  into 
anger  or  impatience. 

Eunice  had  not  as  yet  resumed  her  studies, 
which  she  laid  aside  at  the  commencement  of 
Passion-week ;  her  mind  this  week  had  been 
fully  occupied  ; — at  first  with  the  funeral  of  her 
friend  Rhoda,  then  with  the  arrival  of  her  aunt 
and  Eanney,  and  subsequently  in  arranging 
for  the  comfort  of  the  little  invalid,  and 
preparing  to  carry  out  his  physician's  direc- 
tions. 

But  at  dinner  on  Saturday  Mr.  Hart  well 
observed  : 

M  We   have  had  a  long  vacation,  daughter ; 


RANNEY.  171 

but  I  suppose  our  routine  will  begin  again  on 
Monday  ;  say  you  not  so  ?" 

Eunice  glanced  with  some  surprise  from  her 
uncle  to  Kanney,  who  was  beside  her  at  table. 

"  I  hardly  supposed  I  should  be  able  to 
study  much  now,"  she  replied. 

"  O  yes !  I  think  so ;"  interposed  Aunt 
Edith  ;  "  at  least  we  will  hope  you  can,  as  a 
general  thing." 

She  checked  the  remark  Eunice  was  about  to 
make,  by  a  significant  look ; — but  after  Ranney 
was  asleep  that  evening,  the  subject  was 
resumed. 

"  Eunice,  my  love,  I  see  you  are  inclined  to 
be  very  faithful  and  devoted  to  your  boy,  but 
you  must  not  over-do  the  matter. 

"  We  must  try,  as  the  doctor  says,  to  keep 
him  amused  and  happy,  but  still  it  would 
hardly  be  well  to  let  him  feel  that  you  must  do 
nothing  but  wait  upon  him.  We  must  not 
make  a  tyrant  of  our  little  boy ! 

"  Unless  Banney  should  grow  worse,  instead 
of  better,  as  we  hope,  I  think  you  will  be  able 
to  go  on  with  your  usual  studies;  keeping 


172  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

him  with  you,  perhaps,  when  we  are  too  busy 
to  Avatch  him. 

"I  would  be  glad  to  take  charge  of  him  during 
your  study  hours,  for  I  am  aware  you  may  find 
it  difficult,  sometimes,  to  prepare  your  lessons. 
But  you  know,  dear,  that  I  shall  be  very 
busy  now,  and  must  leave  him  mostly  upon 
your  hands. 

"You  will  have  plenty  of  opportunities  for  the 
exercise  of  patience,  in  trying  to  carry  on  your 
studies,  subject  to  constant  interruption  ;  but  it 
may  be  a  good  discipline  for  you,  my  love. 

"  Try  to  feel  content  with  doing  ivliat  you  oc,^, 
always  taking  first  *  the  duty  which  lies  nearest 
you  ;'  and  you  will  have  learned  a  most  valua- 
ble lesson  to  help  you  in  your  life-work  !" 

Aunt  Edith's  words  were  accompanied  with  a 
smile  of  kindly  meaning,  which  Eunice  well 
understood. 

How  strange  it  seemed  to  her,  that  the  very 
path  she  had  so  longed  to  escape,  while  at 
home — the  path 

"Where  duties  fence  life's  narrow  ground." 
now  opened  plainly  before  her  again  amid  the 


RANNEY.  173 

very  scenes  where  she  had  fondly  hoped  to 
press  on  joyfully  in  the  ways  of  her  own  choice ! 

Still  musing  thus,  she  retired  to  her  own 
room  for  the  night;  and  bending  over  her  litllo 
brother,  her  charge  by  night  as  well  as  by  day, 
she  kissed  him,  as  he  quietly  slept — then  smiled 
through  her  tears  as  she  murmured : 

"  Dear  Rhoda !  Yes,  it  is  '  a  school,'  indeed ! 
and  oh !  how  glad  I  am  that  it  is  '  the  same !'  " 

The  young  disciple  had  begun  to  understand 
that  it  was  no  hard  taskmaster,  but  her  faithful 
Teacher,  and  Heavenly  Guide,  who  set  before 
her  this  lesson  to  be  humbly  learned. 

In  the  psalm  which  Eunice  read,  before 
undressing,  were  these  words,  which  well  ex- 
pressed her  heart's  desire  at  that  hour  : 

"  Show  me  Thy  ways,  O  Lord  : 
Teach  me  Thy  paths  : 
Lead  me  in  Thy  truth  and  teach  me, 
For  Thou  art  the  God  of  my  salvation : 
On  Thee  do  I  wait  all  the  day." 

The  next  morning  was  Sunday,  and  Eunice 
awoke  wondering  whether  she  should  be  able  to 
go  to  church  that  day.  She  had  not  left 
Banuey  yet,  but  a  few  moments  at  a  time ;  and 


174  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

besides,  she  did  not  wish  to  have  any  one  else 
detained  to  take  care  of  him  ; — and  the  church 
was  at  rather  too  great  a  distance  for  him  to 
walk. 

The  doctor  wished  him  to  walk  but  very 
little,  but  to  take  gentle  exercise  in  any  other 
way  that  could  be  devised. 

Aunt  Mildred,  aware  of  this,  had  declared 
herself  quite  equal  to  a  drive,  the  day  previous, 
and  ordered  a  hack ;  taking  Eunice  and  Ranney 
with  her. 

Ranney  was  sleeping  so  soundly  when  his 
sister  was  ready  to  go  down-stairs,  that  she 
would  not  disturb  him,  but  softly  quitted  the 
room. 

In  passing  through  the  hall,  she  fancied  she 
heard  Mrs.  Ellett  call,  and  went  in  to  see  if 
she  wanted  anj^thing. 

"  I  did  not  call,  dearie,  but  I  am  as  glad  to 
see  my.  sunbeam  as  if  I  had !" 

Eunice  gave  the  dear  old  lady  an  affectionate 
kiss,  and  inquired  after  her  health. 

"  I  feel  better  than  I  have  in  some  time,  my 
love;  really,  the  drive  yesterday  must  have 


1IANNKY.  175 

clone  me  good :  I  hardly  supposed,  when  I 
ordered  the  hack,  that  I  should  go,  but  I  thought 
our  little  Ixry  could  enjoy  it,  whether  I  did  or  not." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Aunt  Mildred ;  as  you 
always  are!" 

"  Ah !  I  am  afraid  I  have  seemed  a  poor 
selfish  old  woman,  of  late,  my  dear !  But  you 
have  been  very  patient,  as  have  all  my  friends  ; 
and  I  am  so  thankful  to  feel  a  little  better  now ; 
for  I  think  I  may  help  you  some  with  your  dear 
little  boy.  And,  by  the  way,  do  you  think  he 
will  like  to  stay  with  me,  while  you  go  to  Church 
to-day?" 

"  Oh,  I  ana  afraid  it  will  tire  you  to  have  him 
here,  Aunt  Mildred !" 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  think  not ;  and  we  grew 
pretty  good  friends  yesterday.  I  fancy  he  will 
be  happy  with  me.  Jenny  will  be  about  the 
house,  and  I  can  ring  if  I  need  anything  :  I 
think  we  two  invalids  can  take  care  of  each 
other  this  morning ;  and  your  Aunt  Dora  will 
be  at  home  this  afternoon,  probably." 

"  Well,  aunty,  I  will  see  what  Ranney  thinks 
about  it ;  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  go !" 


176  EUNICE   SOMEKS. 

Ranney  was  disposed  to  act  a  little  babyish, 
and  cling  to  Eunice ;  but  a  timely  word  from 
his  Aunt  Edith  made  him  a  little  ashamed,  and 
he  made  no  further  objection. 

When  Eunice  returned  after  the  morning 
service,  she  found  the  little  fellow  very  contented 
and  happy.  "  He  had  a  nice  time,"  he  said  ; 
and  he  seemed  quite  willing  to  spare  his  sister 
again. 

Thus  a  precedent  was  happily  established 
for  the  Sundays. 

But  this  was  a  favorable  specimen  of  Ran- 
ney's  days.  They  were  not  all  so  bright.  At 
times  he  seemed  to  suffer  a  good  deal,  and  was 
very  irritable  and  exacting. 

Then  the  physician's  directions  were  such  as 
to  require  a  good  deal  of  time  and  careful 
attention.  Mrs.  Hartwell  intended  to  admin- 
ister the  strengthening  baths,  and  the  frequent 
rubbing  herself ;  but  the  child  preferred  to  bo 
tended  by  his  sister,  and  Eunice  begged  to  do 
it,  promising  to  be  very  careful  in  following 
instructions,  and  guarding  against  exposure  to 
cold. 


EANNEY.  177 

Once  she  came  near  losing  Kanney's  con- 
fidence entirely.  She  had  prepared  a  warm 
salt  bath,  and  being  a  little  absent-minded, 
made  it  rather  more  than  warm. 

Helping  the  little  boy  to  spring  into  the  tub, 
she  was  startled  by  his  scream  of  pain,  and 
quickly  caught  him  out  again. 

Eanney  surveyed  his  little  par-boiled  toes 
with  an  injured  and  indignant  look ;  but  Eunice 
was  so  full  of  self-reproach  for  her  carelessness, 
and  begged  his  forgiveness  so  heartily,  that  his 
mood  quickly  changed. 

"  Never  mind,  Eunie  1"  said  he  ;  "  it  didn't 
hurt  much !  You  wont  make  it  too  hot  again, 
will  you?" 

She  never  did. 

A  letter  from  Eunice  to  her  mother,  written 
after  Ranney  had  been  nearly  two  weeks  in 
Holmeford,  may  best  describe  the  condition  of 
things  at  this  time. 

"  HOLMKPOBD,  April  28. 

"  I  know  you  wish  to  hear  often,  mother  dear, 
from  your  two  'absent  darlings,'  so  I  write 

again,   although  it  is  but  a  day  or  two  since 
12 


178  EUNICE  SOMEBS. 

Aunt  Edith  sent  you  a  full  account  of  the  treat- 
ment which  Dr.  Browne  had  prescribed  for 
Ranney. 

"Dear  little  fellow!  It  is  sad  to  think  what 
a  time  it  may  be,  and  I  suppose,  must  be,  be- 
fore he  can  be  well  and  strong  again  ;  and  yet 
it  is  a  comfort  to  know  that  there  is  so  much  that 
may  be  done  to  help  him,  and  prevent  his 
growing  very  much  worse. 

"  He  is  very  patient,  I  think :  when  he  is 
fretful  it  is  very  plain  that  he  is  suffering  and 
cannot  help  it.  "We  get  along  very  nicely 
together. 

"  You  ask  if  my  studies  are  at  an  end,  for  the 
present. 

"  Oh,  no !  I  manage  to  prepare  my  lessons 
for  uncle,  every  day ;  and  auntie  and  I  do  not 
often  miss  our  readings. 

"Ranney  sits  with  me  while  I  study,  and 
amuses  himself  quietly,  unless  he  is  feeling  very 
poorly.  There  are  a  number  of  books  with 
handsome  engravings,  in  the  library,  which 
please  him ;  and  I  have  found  out  that  he  be- 
gins to  read  quite  nicely,  though  we  do  not  like 


BANNEY.  179 

to  Lave  him  read  much  at  a  time  :  I  read  aloud 
to  him,  a  good  deal. 

"  My  singing  lessons  are  at  a  stand-still,  for  I 
cannot  leave  Ranney  to  go  to  Miss  Lynde  ;  and, 
of  course,  I  have  not  resumed  my  drawing ; — 
I  doubt  if  I  ever  shall. 

"  I  have  not  been  to  see  dear  Rhoda's  mother 
since  the  funeral,  but  I  hope  to  be  able  to  get 
there  soon :  you  know  Dr.  Browne  does  not 
wish  Ranney  to  walk  much  ;  if  it  were  not  for 
that,  I  could  take  him  with  me. 

"  But  do  not  think  that  I  mean  to  complain 
of  these  things,  darling  mother !  I  am  glad  to 
give  up  something  for  Ranney's  sake ;  and  I  am 
very  happy  in  taking  care  of  him. 

"  We  mean  to  take  Ranney  out,  in  some  way, 
every  pleasant  day.  Uncle  says  he  will  see  to 
it,  for  he  must  have  the  air;  but  I  know  it 
costs  a  good  deal  to  hire  a  horse ;  and  Aunt 
Mildred  has  been  so  kind. 

"  She  has  proposed  a  drive,  several  mornings, 
though  she  was  only  able  to  go  herself  twice : 
the  other  times  she  laughed  and  said,  '  Raimey 
must  get  the  benefit  of  the  drive  for  both,  for 


180  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

her  courage  failed!'  I  knew  very  well  that  she 
ordered  the  hack  on  purpose  for  him. 

"  Two  mornings  Uucle  Ransom  came  him- 
self, with  a  buggy,  and  said  there  was  plenty  of 
room  for  me,  with  Kanuey.  Those  were  de- 
lightful drives  :  uncle  is  so  kind  and  pleasant. 

"  Then,  yesterday,  we  had  the  funniest  ride 
of  all.  Cousin  Dick  proposed  that  we  should 
go,  right  after  breakfast,  so  that  he  could  help 
us,  and  take  a  ride  in  the  street  cars,  out  to  the 
end  of  the  route :  there  are  two  lines  of  street 
cars  in  Holmeford  now,  and  one  passes  the 
store  where  Cousin  Dick  is. 

"  He  carried  Rauney,  in  his  arms,  to  the  car, 
and  told  us  to  stop  at  the  store,  when  we  came 
back,  and  he  would  carry  him  home. 

"Wasn't  that  kind? — Eanney  enjoyed  the  trip 
very  much,  and  Cousin  Dick  says  we  must  try 
it  again. 

"But  I  am  making  out  a  very  long  letter, 
and  my  boy  is  growing  impatient ;  so  I  must 
only  send  a  loving  kiss  for  papa  and  yourself, 
George  and  the  little  ones.  I  do  want  to  see 
you  all  once  more !  EUNICE." 


RANNEY.  181 

"We  must  give  but  a  brief  extract  from  the 
reply  to  this  letter  : 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  dear  daughter,  what  a 
relief  and  comfort  this  arrangement  has  been  to 
me,  although  I  sadly  miss  my  boy,  and  it  is  rather 
hard  for  us  to  have  our  Eunice's  absence  indefi- 
nitely prolonged. 

"  I  could  see  that  our  good  old  Dr.  "Wayne 
did  not  understand  Ranney's  case,  or  at  least, 
was  not  skilful  in  its  treatment.  I  longed  for 
the  advice  which  might  save  him  from  years  of 
suffering,  and  perhaps  deformity,  but  could  not 
see  how  we  were  to  obtain  it. 

"  We  owe  a  great  deal  of  gratitude  to  your 
kind  aunt  and  uncle,  for  devising  the  present 
plan ;  and  we  are  grateful,  too,  to  our  dear 
child,  for  her  cheerful  acceptance  of  her  part  of 
the  burden,  without  which  it  could  scarcely 
have  been  undertaken. 

"  God  bless  and  keep  both  our  dear  absent 
ones,  and  restore  them  to  us  in  His  own  good 
time ! " 


CHAPTEE   XIV. 

|«dbtnts  bjr  %  JSttajr. 

'Who  from  these  children's  steps,  the  thorns 
Of  grief,  and  doubt,  and  care, 
Can  kindly  take  ;  or,  for  their  peace, 
As  kindly  plant  them  there  : 

'Through  regions  sad  with  weeping  storms, 
Dark  wood,  and  frowning  hill, 
Or  valley,  bright  as  angel's  dreams, 
Can  guide  them,  at  His  will." 

[UNICE,  I  have  a  sentence  to  pro- 
nounce   upon    you  !  "     said    Mrs, 

[Hartwell,  at  lunch,  a  clay  or  two 

after. 

"  You  are  to  run  up-stairs  at  once,  and  dress : 
then  disappear  out  of  the  front  door,  and  not 
let  me  see  you  again  until  dinner-time  ! " 

Eanney  had  been  out,  riding,  and  when  he 
returned,  had  fallen  asleep  on  the  lounge  in 

Mrs.  Ellett's  room,  and  was  having  a  good  nap. 

(182) 


INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAY.  183 

"  He  will  feel  quite  bright,  when  he  awakes," 
said  Aunt  Edith,  "  aiid  I  can  take  care  of  him 
this  afternoon.  You  have  been  too  much  con- 
fined since  I  came  home,  and  I  must  see  that 
you  have  a  little  more  freedom,  after  this." 

"  I  am  sure,  dear  auntie,  you  need  not  worry 
about  me  ;  I  have  had  a  ride,  almost  every  day, 
and  have  been  to  church  both  Sundays  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes !  but  you  want  a  good  inn,  and  a 
little  time  to  yourself ; — be  off,  now,  and  make 
the  most  of  your  liberty !  " 

Eunice  was  delighted  to  obey  this  command, 
and  was  soon  in  the  street,  on  her  way  to  Miss 
Lynde's. 

On  second  thoughts  she  resolved  to  make 
sure  of  a  cull  at  Mrs.  Merritt's,  first ;  lest  some- 
thing should  interfere  with  her  purpose  of 
going  there. 

Rhoda's  mother  affectionately  welcomed  her 
daughter's  friend,  and  the  two  had  a  long  and 
comforting  talk,  about  the  dear  departed  one. 

Mrs.  Merritt  had  long  schooled  herself  to 
contemplate  the  thought  of  parting  with  her 
dear  child,  having  had  reason  to  believe  that 


184:  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

the  separation  might  conie  at  any  time ;  and 
her  grief  was  subdued,  and  her  manner  re- 
signed, and  even  cheerful.  The  same  trusting 
faith  which  had  upheld  the  daughter,  now 
sustained  her  parents  under  their  bereave- 
ment. 

Mrs.  Merritt  was  much  interested  in  hearing 
of  Ranney,  and  was  still  inquiring  about  him, 
when  her  little  boy,  Jack,  as  he  was  usually 
called,  entered,  in  search  of  his  mother. 

Mrs.  Merritt  had  just  mentioned  that  Jack 
seemed  to  feel  his  sister's  death  even  mure 
keenly  than  the  two  older  boys,  who  were  nearer 
her  age :  they  attended  school,  and  had  not 
been  quite  as  much  with  her,  of  late,  which 
perhaps  accounted  for  the  seeming  difference ; 
but  poor  little  Jack  had  depended  very  much 
upon  '  sister  Rhoda,'  and  he  was,  besides,  of  a 
very  susceptible  temperament,  and  grieved  sadly 
over  his  loss. 

Eunice  greeted  the  child,  as  he  came  up  ;  at 
first  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  respond,  but 
some  recollection  crossed  his  mind,  evidently, 
of  the  intimacy  between  Eunice  and  his  sister, 


INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAY.  185 

for  he  turned  suddenly,  and  gave  her  his  hand, 
and  even  returned  her  kiss. 

Eunice  drew  him  to  a  seat  beside  her,  and 
said : 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  in  a  good  many  days, 
Jack ;  shall  I  tell  you  why  ? — I  have  had  a  little 
sick  brother  to  take  care  of,  and  I  did  not  like 
to  leave  him  long,  for  fear  he  would  miss  me, 
and  feel  homesick.  "Will  not  you  and  Arthur 
come  round  and  see  him?  He  would  like  tc 
see  you,  and  play  with  you,  very  much !" 

"  Why  don't  you  bring  him  here?"  asked  Jack. 

"  Because  the  doctor  will  not  let  him  walk  so 
far." 

"Can't  he  ride?" 

"By  the  way,  Eunice,"  interposed  Mrs. 
Merritt,  "  is  he  too  large  to  ride  in  a  child's 
perambulator?  We  have  a  very  strong  one, 
put  away  in  the  attic,  and  it  does  seem  to  me 
that  you  might  manage  to  make  him  very  com- 
fortable in  it.  Suppose  we  have  it  down,  and 
see ! — Is  he  larger  than  Jack  ?" 

"O  no,  he  is  a  little  younger,  and  con- 
siderably smaller,  I  should  judge." 


186  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

"Well,  Jack,  go  and 'ask  Ann  to  bring  it 
down." 

Jack  soon  re-appeared,  wheeling  the  vehicle 
into  the  room.  Then  he  gathered  himself  into 
it  to  convince  Eunice  that  Ranney  could  ride 
in  it,  very  well. 

"  We  can  make  a  higher  seat  than  that,  very 
easily,  so  that  he  can  dispose  of  his  limbs  with 
more  comfort  and  elegance,"  said  Mrs.  Merritt, 
smiling.  You  will  not  mind  wheeling  him  about 
in  it,  will  you,  dear  ?  Any  one  would  conclude 
that  the  child  was  unable  to  walk." 

"  O  no !"  exclaimed  Eunice,  earnestly  ;  "  I 
should  not  mind  anything  which  would 
give  him  so  much  pleasure  as  I  think  this 
will." 

"  Dear  child !"  said  Mrs.  Merritt,  "  that  is  so 
like  Ehoda!  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  two 
were  friends !" 

"  I  know  where  you  live !"  said  Jack  :  "  shall 
I  take  the  carnage  round  for  you  ?  and  then  I 
can  see  your  brother." 

"  Eunice  is  not  going  directly  home,  my  dear ; 
perhaps  you  had  better  wait  until  morning; 


INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAT.  187 

then  you  can  go,  if  she  would  like  it,  and  stay 
awhile  with  Ranney." 

So  it  was  settled ;  and  Eunice,  after  heartily 
thanking  Jack,  and  his  mother,  too,  for  the 
proffered  kindness,  took  her  leave,  and  went  tc 
see  Miss  Lynda. 

Happily  the  young  lady  was  at  home,  having 
just  come  in  from  a  walk. 

"  I  am  50  gl.-id  you  did  not  come  a  little 
sooner,  and  find  me  out,  my  dear !" 

"  So  am  I,"  returned  Eunice,  "  for  more 
reasons  than  one.  I  think  I  have  found  a  way, 
now,  to  go  on  with  my  much-missed  lessons ; 
if  you  are  not  tired  of  teaching  me,  and  if 
you  will  not  object  to  having  Ranney  come 
with  me." 

And  Eunice  explained  about  the  perambu- 
lator. 

"  I  am  very  glad !"  exclaimed  Miss  Frances. 
"  I  have  missed  my  pupil  and  friend  very  much ! 
I  shall  be  delighted  to  have  you  bring  Rauney, 
and  I  think  I  can  find  enough  to  amuse  him. 
when  he  is  here,  so  that  he  will  not  mind  oui 
music." 


188  EUNICE  SOMEKS. 

"  I  think  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  finding 
amusement  for  him,"  said  Eunice,  smiling,  as 
she  glanced  around  the  pleasant  parlor,  which 
was  a  sort  of  museum,  in  itself. 

"  How  old  is  Eanney  ?" 

"  Nearly  eight ;  but  he  is  rather  small  for  his 
age :  if  he  does  not  take  a  notion  that  the 
vehicle  is  too  babyish,  I  think  he  will  enjoy 
getting  about  in  it,  very  much.  It  seems  quite 
strongly  made,  and  of  course  the  top  pushes 
back,  out  of  the  way." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  do  nicely,  dear,  if  it 
do  not  prove  rather  heavy  work  for  you : — you. 
must  not  go  too  far  with  him." 

"  No ;  but  I  can  use  it  to  bring  him  around 
here.  You  will  see  us  quite  often,  I  warn 
you!" 

"I  hope  I  shall!  And  now  you  can  stay 
and  practice  a  little  while,  I  know.  Take  off 
your  things,  and  then  sit  down  here  a  moment, 
first ;  for  I  have  some  good  news  to  tell  you." 

"  More  good  news  ?"  exclaimed  Eunice,  quickly 
placing  herself  beside  her  friend. 

"Yes,  darling;   the   girls   have   all   decided 


INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAY.  189 

now ; — Celia  and  Kitty,  as  well  as  the  rest  of 
our  class. — We  are  to  have  the  comfort  of  see- 
ing them  all  come  forward  to  Confirmation, 
Sunday  after  next !" 

"  Oh,  that  is  good  news !"  cried  Eunice ;  "  I 
am  so  glad,  for  them,  and  for  you,  too !  I 
•wonder" — Eunice  checked  herself,  and  asked, 
instead : 

"Do  you  know  of  any  others  who  will  be 
confirmed?" 

"Not  positively;  but  we  hope  that  several 
others  will  conclude  to  stand  forth  then  on  the 
Lord's  side.  I  did  hope,"  added  Frances,  after 
a  pause,  "that  our  cousin  Dick  would  decide 
aright  this  time ;  but  I  fear  he  does  not  think 
much  of  the  subject." 

Eunice  looked  up,  wistfully. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  him !"  she  said.  "  Dear 
Miss  Lynde,  I  think  he  cares  a  good  deal  more 
than  one  would  suppose.  I  do  yet  hope  he 
will  come  forward  !" 

The  shy  manner  of  her  little  friend  revealed  to 
Frances  that  she  had  suspected  the  state  of  the 
case  between  herself  and  her  so-called  cousin. 


190  •         EUNICE   SOMEES. 

She  drew  Eunice  close  to  her,  and  gave  her  a 
loving  kiss,  as  she  replied  : 

"  I  hope  so,  too,  darling  !  Now  come  and  let 
us  try  that  new  anthem  together !" 

It  was  a  fact,  that  Dick  North  was  deeply 
attached  to  Frances ;  and  that  she  could  easily 
have  returned  the  attachment,  but  for  the  one 
obstacle  which  caused  her  to  keep  a  strict 
guard  upon  her  affections.  Dick  was,  as  she 
believed,  regardless  of  religious  duties,  living 
without  God  in  the  world  :  and  Frances  Lynde 
was  not  one  to  give  her  heart  and  hand  into 
the  keeping  of  such  a  man. 

Eanney  was  very  much  pleased  with 
his  new  conveyance,  and  also  with  the  boy 
friends  who  came  to  bring  it ;  for  Arthur  came 
too. 

Arthur  was  "  nearly  as  big  as  brother  George," 
as  Kanney  confidentially  informed  him ;  and 
this  led  to  an  animated  account  of  George's 
exploits,  which,  to  the  town-boys,  was  very 
amusing. 

"  It's  most  school-time,"  said  Arthur ;  "  I 
must  be  off !  Shall  I  come,  some  time,  and  give 


INCIDENTS   BY  THE  WAY.  191 

you  a  ride  in  this  thicg  ?  I'm  stronger  than 
your  sister ! " 

Eanney  was  much  pleased  with  the  offer,  and 
thought  Arthur  was  a  real  nice  fellow,  "  most  as 
clever  as  Georgie ! " 

Little  Jack  stayed  an  hour  or  two  with  Eau- 
ney,  which  gave  Eunice  a  capital  chance  to  read 
up  her  Latin  ;  and  then  she  proposed  that  they 
should  take  Eanney  out  ;  which  they  did,  and 
all  enjoyed  it. 

OLIO  morning,  when  Eunice  was  studying, 
Eanney  asked  for  a  paper  and  pencil,  and 
Eunice  opened  the  drawer  of  the  table  in  which 
her  drawing  materials  and  sketches  were  kept, 
to  supply  him. 

"  What  is  that,  Eunie  ?"  said  he,  pointing  to 
one  of  her  drawings. 

She  took  it  out,  and  showed  it  to  him. 

Mr.  Hartwell  was  in  the  room ;  a  very  un- 
usual thing  at  that  time  of  the  day,  but  he  had 
been  detained  by  some  matters  of  business. 

He  looked  up  from  his  writing,  and  said  : 

"  Eunice  makes  nice  pictures,  doesn't  she, 
little  man?" 


192  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Please  make  some  more,  Eunie  ; 
why  don't  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  have  Mr.  Neville  to  show  me 
how,"  replied  she,  laughing. 

"  Shall  we  send  her  off  to  the  picture-man, 
Kanney,  to  learn  to  make  more  pictures  ? 

"  Seriously,  Eunice,  you  may  as  well  be 
taking  a  few  more  lessons  ;  your  eyes  are  quite 
well  again,  are  they  not  ?" 

"  I  think  so,  uncle  ;  I  should  at  least  be  glad 
to  try ; — but  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  leave 
Rauuey,  to  take  the  lessons." 

"  Ho !  Yes  you  can !  I  can  stay  up  in 
Aunt  Mildred's  room  when  you  go,"  quoth 
Banuey,  who  was  quite  interested  in  the  picture 
making. 

Mrs.  Hart  well  "wondered  they  had  not 
thought  of  it  before,"  and  so  it  was  settled  that 
Eunice  should  re-commence  the  next  day,  which 
was  the  day  the  class  met. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  her  aunt,  as  she  re- 
turned from  her  lesson,  "  what  did  Mr.  Neville 
say  to  his  truant  pupil  ?" 

"  He  seemed  glad  to  have  me  begin  again, 


INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAT.  193 

and  he  said  we  must  work  in  earnest,  to  make 
Up  for  lost  time." 

"  Do  not  let  yourself  become  so  engrossed  as 
to  forget  to  be  careful  in  using  your  eyes,  my 
dear  child !  You  will  promise  me  to  stop  draw- 
ing at  once,  when  you  feel  the  least  pain  or 
weakness  in  them,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  will,  Aunt  Edith.  I  suppose  I 
must  expect  some  interruptions  from  them ; — 
and  there  must  probably  be  some  days  when  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  leave  Banney. 

"  I  told  Mr.  Neville  he  must  not  be  surprised 
if  I  should  miss  some  lessons  ; — but  I  am  very 
glad  to  be  able  to  go  on,  Aunt  Edith, — if  only 
for  half  the  time." 

Eunice  was  greatly  favored  in  being  spared 
any  further  trouble  with  her  eyes ; — taught  by 
past  experience,  she  was  very  careful  to  work 
in  a  good  light,  and  not  too  long  at  a  time. 

But  her  little  charge  sometimes  interfered 
with  her  delightful  work;  Eunice  soon  dis- 
covered that  it  was  harder  to  be  patient  when 
interrupted  in  the  midst  of  her  drawing,  than 

at  any  other  occupation ;  and  she  was 
13 


194  EUNICE  80MERS. 

to  keep  a  close  watch  over  herself,  to  avoid 
breaking  her  resolution. 

The  day  on  which  she  was  to  have  taken  the 
third  lesson,  Banney  was  feeling  more  than 
commonly  unwell.  It  was  a  rainy  day,  and  lie 
had  not  been  out,  which  perhaps  aggravated 
his  miseiy  ;  and  as  the  hour  for  the  lesson  drew 
near,  Eunice  saw,  with  much  disappointment,  . 
that  there  was  little  hope  of  her  being  able  to 

go- 
Mrs.  Hartwell  was  very  busy,  and  had  evi- 
dently forgotten  that  it  was  "drawing  day;" 
and  Aunt  Mildred  had  a  "  poor  turn,"  as  she 
would  have  described  it,  so  Banney  could  not 
stay  with  her. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  resignation; 
so  Eunice  put  away  her  drawing-tools,  with  just 
the  faintest  shadow  of  a  sigh,  and  devoted  her- 
self to  soothing  and  comforting  her  young 
patient. 

She  spent  some  time  in  bathing  and  rubbing 
the  "  place  that  ached,"  as  Banney  called  it ; 
then  put  on  a  comfortable  little  wrapper,  which 
Aunt  Mildred  had  found  strength  to  make  for 


INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAT.  195 

him,  and  took  him  on  her  lap  by  a  front  win- 
dow, that  he  might  be  diverted  by  what  was 
passing,  as  well  as  by  the  story  she  was  telling 
him. 

Suddenly  Kanney  sprang  up,  exclaiming  joy- 
full  j",  "  There  he  comes !  I  didn't  s'pose  he 
would !" 

"  There  who  comes  ?"  said  Eunice.  "  See 
here,  little  man !  If  you  jump  around  in  that 
style,  I  shall  have  to  bathe  you  again ! — Who 
is  coming  ?" 

"  Why,  Koland  !     He  said  he  would. 

"  See !  He's  been  to  that  house  opposite, 
but  I  know  he  meaut  to  come  here !  Yes,  now 
they've  told  him,  and  he  is  coming  across !" 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  that  he 
was  coming,  you  little  rogue  ?"  cried  Eunice, 
hastily  putting  Kanney  in  trim  to  go  down- 
stairs. 

The  child  forgot  his  aches  in  the  pleasure  of 
greeting  Roland,  and  Eunice  was  quite  as 
nmch  pleased  to  see  him,  though  wholly  taken 
by  surprise. 

"  Ranney  has  been  expecting  you,  it  seems ; 


196  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

but  he  had  not  told  me  you  were  coming 
here  ; — pray  how  did  it  happen  ?" 

"  I  only  told  him  that  I  might  possibly  come 
to  Holmeford,"  said  Roland :  "  it  was  not 
settled  when  he  left. 

"Father  was  partly  expecting  to  come  on 
here,  on  business ;  and  he  had  promised,  if  he 
did  so,  to  let  me  accompany  him,  as  the 
business  was  partly  on  my  account." 

Eunice  looked  the  question  which  she  did 
not  ask;  and  to  which  Roland  replied,  smil- 
ing: 

"  Father  thinks  I  need  a  year  at  some  first- 
rate  school,  to  finish  fitting  for  college ;  and 
Dr.  Barnwell's  has  been  recommended  to  him, — 
a  little  out  of  Holmeford,  you  know,  just 
far  enough  to  have  country  privileges. 

"  We  are  to  go  out  there,  to  see  Dr.  Barnwell 
to-morrow,  so  I  thought  I  would  find  you  out 
to-day,  for  I  wanted  very  much  to  see  you,  and 
Ranney." 

A  lively  conversation  followed.  Roland  had 
to  tell  all  the  Mansfield  news,  and  to  answer 
Ranney's  eager  questions.  The  little  lad  felt  as 


INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAY.  197 

if  he  had  been  away  from  home  almost  as  long 
as  Eunice. 

"  And  how  have  you  got  on  with  Mr.  Hale 
this  winter?"  Eunice  asked. 

"  Oh,  do  you  not  know  that  Mr.  Hale  left, 
some  weeks  ago  ?  He  had  a  much  better  offer 
than  the  trustees  could  make  him,  in  Mansfield. 

"  We  have  had  a  lady  teacher  since,  but  I  do 
not  think  she  will  stay,  permanently :  the 
Academy  will  be  all  ready  for  you  to  take, 
Eunice,  when  you  want  it." 

Eunice  smiled  ;  and  Roland  added : 

"You  have  been  sadly  hindered  in  your 
studies  this  winter,  haven't  you? — I  was  so 
sorry  to  hear  about  your  eyes." 

"  Yes,  but  it  was  not  att  lost  time  :  uncle  was 
so  kind,  and  took  so  much  pains,  that  I  think  I 
have  improved  faster  than  would  be  supposed." 

"  Improved  in  more  ways  than  one !"  was 
Koland's  mental  comment,  as  Eunice  arose  to 
speak  to  her  Aunt  Edith,  whom  she  heard 
passing  in  the  hall. 

Mrs.  Hartwell  entered,  and  gave  Eoland 
a  warm  greeting,  and  a  cordial  invitation  to 


198  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

stay  at  her  house  ;  but  this  he  was  unable  to 
accept. 

The  young  friends  and  schoolmates  com- 
pared notes  as  to  progress  in  their  studies ; 
and  Roland  exclaimed  in  surprise,  when  he 
found  how  Eunice  had  got  on. 

"  I  don't  think  you  could  have  accomplished 
as  much  at  school,  with  eyes  !"  he  said. 

Altogether  it  was  a  very  pleasant  incident, — 
this  visit ;  and  Eunice  concluded,  after  Roland 
had  gone,  that  it  was  just  as  well  that  she  was 
detained  from  her  lesson,  that  day. 


'CHAPTEK    XV. 


$)Uasant 

««  He  willa  His  people  to  be  glad, 

Sin  only  can  their  peace  destroy  : — 
He  never  inado  thee  to  be  sad, 
Who  gave  thee  such  a  heart  for  joy." 

jjKE  you  very  tired,  Ranney  ?" 

"  Yes !"    The  answer  was  accom- 
panied with  the  weary  sigh  which 
meant  "  More  than  tired!" 

Eunice  laid  down  her  book,  and  seated 
herself  in  a  lo\v  chair. 

"  Come,  dear,  let  us  rock  a  little  while,  and  it 
will  soon  be  time  to  go  to  rest." 

It  was  just  after  dinner,  and  Cousin  Dick 
was  in  the  room.  Eanney  looked  a  little  shy, 
as  if  fearing  to  be  laughed  at  if  he  let  his  sister 
hold  him.  But  indeed  the  slight  little  figure 
was  no  heavy  burden; — though  his  friends 

199 


200  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

hoped  that  he  gained  a  little,  on  the  whole,  the 
improvement  was  not  perceptible  in  his  outward 
appearance. 

Oousin  Dick  felt  too  sorry  and  anxious  for 
him  to  have  any  disposition  to  tease. 

He  lifted  him  lightly  upon  his  sister's  lap  : — 
"  That's  a  capital  way  to  rest,  isn't  it,  Ranney?" 
said  he  :  "  I  wish  I  had  a  sister  to  pet  me,  Avhen 
I  have  a  headache !" 

"  What  were  you  reading,  Pussy  ?  shall 
I  read  aloud  to  you  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  Cousin  Dick ;  I  was  only  look- 
ing out  the  Collect,  and  so  on,  for  to-morrow." 

"  The  Fourth  Sunday  after  Easter,"  said  he  : 
"  I  shall  like  to  read  it,  too."  And  he  opened 
the  Prayer-book,  and  read  the  Collect  rever- 
ently. 

"  '  0  Almighty  God,  who  alone  canst  order 
the  unruly  wills  and  affections  of  sinful  men  ; 
Grant  unto  Thy  people,  that  they  may  love  the 
things  which  Thou  commandest,  and  desire 
that  which  Thou  dost  promise ;  that  so,  among 
the  sundry  and  manifold  changes  of  the  world, 
our  hearts  may  surely  there  be  fixed  where 


PLEASANT  THINGS.  201 

true  joys  are  to  be  found  :  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord." 

He  seemed  struck  with  the  words,  and  held 
the  book  musiugly  in  his  hand.  Presently, 
meeting  a  glance  from  Eunice,  he  said  : 

"  It  is  appropriate,  is  it  not,  little  cousin,  for 
one  who  is  just  beginning  to  wish  that  his 
unruly  will  and  affections  may  be  thus  ordered  ?" 

"  It  is  appropriate  for  every  one  of  us,"  said 
Eunice,  with  a  thrill  of  hope  and  pleasure ; — 
"  but,  oh,  Cousin  Dick !  I  am  so  glad !" 

"  So  glad  of  what  ?"  he  asked,  quietly. 

"  That  you  have  decided ; — that  you  will  be 
confirmed !" 

"  I  have  not  said  that,  coz." 

"But  I  know  you  will!"  replied  Eunice, 
looking  up  at  him  with  a  happy  smile. 

Dick  did  not  answer,  but  she  knew  that  he 
was  not  displeased. 

"  Shall  I  read  on  ?"  he  said ;  and  read  the 
Epistle,  and  the  Gospel  for  the  day. 

"He  will  guide  you  into  all  truth,"  he 
repeated,  thoughtfully: — "if  we  might  only 
experience  that  to  be  true,  Eunice." 


202  EUNICE  SOMEES. 

"  But  it  is ! — I  mean,  we  shall  be  sure  to  find 
it  so,  Cousin  Dick,  if  we  will  let,  ourselves  be 
guided, — or  submit  to  be  '  ordered,'  as  the 
Collect  says." 

The  young  man  gazed  thoughtfully  into  her 
earnest  face. 

"  The  '  ordering '  is  not  always  as  we  should 

» 

choose  for  ourselves  ;  is  it,  Eunie  ?" 

For  all  answer,  Eunice  reached  a  hymn-book 
from  the  table,  and  turned  readily  to  one  which 
had  of  late  become  a  favorite  with  her : — the 
now  well-known  hymn  commencing  : 
"  Lead,  kindly  Light." 

She  handed  the  book  to  him,  pointing  to  this, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Is  the  Bishop  coming  to  the  church  to- 
morrow?" asked  Banney. 

"  Ye$,  dear." 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  to  church !  I  do  want  to, 
so  much." 

"  Be  patient,  dear  little  man,  and  I  hope  you 
will  soon  be  able  to  go  again  ; — but  you  could 
not  bear  it  now ;  you  would  get  too  tired." 

"  I  know  what  the  Bishop  said,  when  Boland 


PLEASANT  THINGS.  203 

Wells,  and  the  others,  were  confirmed : — he 
said  : 

"  '  Defend,  O  Lord,  this  Thy  child  with  Thy 
heavenly  gr.-ice !' 

"  I  wish  I  were  old  enough  to  have  the  Bishop 
put  his  hands  on  my  head !" 

Eunice  glanced  timidly  at  her  cousin,  who 
sat,  an  interested  listener,  and  awaited  her  reply. 

"You  will  soon  be  old  enough,  darling! — 
But  you  remember  Wlio  placed  His  hands  on 
little  children,  and  blessed  them  ?" 

"  Yes,  Jesus !"  said  the  child : 

"  I  wish  that  His  hands  had  been  placed  on  my  head, 
That  His  arm  had  been  thrown  around  me," 

he  added,  quoting  from  his  little  hymn;  but 
the  words  startled  Dick,  who  was  not  familiar 
with  them. 

"But  you  know,"  rejoined  his  sister,  that 
hymn  says,  too : 

"  '  But  still  to  His  footstool  in  prayer  I  may  go, 
And  ask  for  a  share  in  His  love  !' " 

Kiinney  nodded,  understandingly. 
He  seemed  unusually  bright,  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  it  was  a  lovely  day. 


204  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

Cousin  Dick  held  a  whispered  consultation 
with  Mrs.  Hurtwell  and  Eunice,  the  result 
of  which  was  a  decision  that  Runney  might 
go  to  church. 

Dick  offered  to  wheel  him  thither,  himself, 
and  to  bring  him  home  again. 

The  child  seemed  so  greatly  to  enjoy  the 
service,  and  to  appreciate  the  privilege  of  being 
again  at  church,  that  his  friends  felt  it  would 
be  safe  to  repeat  the  experiment,  at  another 
day. 

And  did  Eunice  enjoy  the  service  ? 

She  did,  indeed ! 

Glancing  towards  her  uncle's  pew,  from  her 
seat  with  the  choir,  she  met  the  eye  of  her  little 
brother,  beaming  with  pleasure,  as  he  nestled 
beside  his  aunt ;  and  saw  her  cousin  Dick  also, 
evidently  prepared  to  enter  reverently  and 
heartily  into  the  solemn  services  of  the  day. 

The  low  tones  of  the  organ  recalled  her 
attention  to  her  own  duty ;  and  a  pleasant  and 
blessed  duty  it  seemed,  that  day  1 

As  the  candidates  for  confirmation  were 
summoned  to  the  chancel,  Eunice  felt  her  hand 


PLEASANT  THINGS.  205 

clasped  meaningly  in  that  of  her  friend,  Miss 
Lyiide. 

Dick  North  was  among  the  number  ;  and  the 
four  young  girls,  her  classmates  in  Sunday- 
school,  and  others  whom  they  knew,  and  in 
whom  they  were  both  interested. 

They  followed  them  in  the  reception  of  the 
holy  rite,  with  heartfelt  sympathy  and  prayer. 

That  week  was  to  bring  Eunice  a  joyful  sur- 
prise. She  was  returning  with  Iluuney  from 
Miss  Lyude's,  one  day,  having  been  practising 
with  her,  as  usual. 

As  she  drew  near  home,  a  carriage  from  the 
depot  drove  up  in  front  of  the  house,  and  a 
gentleman  alighted,  who,  as  Eunice  thought 
at  the  little  distance,  looked  wonderfully  like 
her  uncle  himself. 

But  who  could  be  with  him  ?  She  had  not 
heard  of  any  expected  guests. 

Certain  mysterious  observations  which  had 
passed  at  breakfast  that  morning  flashed 
through  her  mind,  and  made  her  quicken  her 
pace,  just  as  Banney  shouted  in  great  ex- 
citement : 


206  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

"  Eunice,  see !  There  is  papa !  Yes,  and 
mamma  too !  Oh,  please  hurry  !" 

This  request  was  not  needed.  The  perambu- 
lator flew  along  the  walk,  and  in  another  mo- 
ment Eunice  was  fondly  clasped  in  her  mother's 
arms. 

Such  a  long  embrace  it  was,  that  her  father 
at  length  smilingly  asked  :  "  Have  you  not  a 
kiss  for  me  too,  my  daughter?" 

Then  followed  a  torrent  of  questions  and 
exclamations,  which  could  not  well  be  tran- 
scribed. 

As  it  proved,  the  visit  had  been  rather  sud- 
denly resolved  upon,  in  compliance  with 
repeated  and  urgent  invitations  from  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hartwell ;  the  latter  had  received  word 
that  they  were  coming,  the  evening  before,  but 
had  concluded  to  let  it  be  a  surprise  to  Eunice 
and  Eanney,  as  indeed  it  was. 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  all  the  children  ?" 
inquired  Eunice,  in  a  puzzled  tone. 

"  The  little  girls  and  George  are  with  Mrs. 
"Wells,  who  kindly  offered  to  take  care  of  them 
if  we  would  come." 


PLEASANT  THINGS.  207 

A  slight  tremor  in  her  mother's  voice  showed 
Eunice  that  she  Avas  thinking  of  her  infant  boy, 
taken  so  lately  into  heavenly  guardianship  ;  and 
she  clasped  the  dear  hand  she  held  with  a 
sympathizing  pressure. 

One  principal  inducement  to  this  visit  had 
been  that  the  parents  might  themselves  see 
Ranney's  physician,  and  obtain  careful  instruc- 
tions as  to  the  course  best  to  be  pursued  with 
him,  when  he  should  return  home. 

"  You  will  take  us  home  when  you  go,  will 
you  not  ?"  queried  Eunice,  when  allusion  was 
made  to  this.  , 

"  We  thought  a  little  of  it,  when  we  left 
home,  dear  ;  but  our  friends  say  '  no !' " 

"  Leave  them  here,  by  ah1  means,  another 
month,"  said  Mr.  Hartwell.  "  It  will  be  then 
only  the  middle  of  June,  and  they  will  return 
before  the  warmest  and  most  trying  weather. 

"  We  think  our  little  city  is  as  pleasant  as 
most  country  places,  at  this  season  !" 

"  How  wonderfully  Holmeford  has  grown 
and  improved,  since  my  last  visit  here !"  re- 
marked Mr.  Soiners. 


208  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

"  Tes ;  we  have,  in  fact,  become  so  cityfied 
tliat  I  do  not  know  as  you  will  find  your 
daughter  contented  with  rural  life  again  !" 

Eunice  smiled  :  and  Mr.  Somers  rejoined  in 
the  same  playful  tone  :  "  You  cannot  tell  what 
Mansfield  may  aspire  to  be,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  years;  it  may  rival  Hohneford !  But 
really,"  he  added,  "joking  apart,  the  proposed 
railroad  will  make  a  great  difference  with  our 
place." 

This  conversation  was  at  dinner-time.  Cousin 
Dick  caught  the  last  remark,  and  followed 
it  up  with  sundry  interested  inquiries. 

Eunice  wondered  a  little  that  he  should  seem 
so  much  concerned  in  the  progress  of  Mans- 
field ;  but  as  the  ladies  were  engaged  upon 
topics  of  more  immediate  interest  to  her,  she 
did  not  hear  all  that  was  said. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Somers  remained  a  whole  week 
in  Holmeford,  although  they  at  first  thought 
they  could  stay  but  two  days. 

It  was  a  delightful  week  to  Eunice.     It  was 
BO  nice  to  have  her  mother  become  acquainted  , 
•with  dear  gentle  Aunt  Mildred,  whom  she  had 


PLEASANT  THINGS.  209 

never  met  before ; — and  with  her  darling  Miss 
Lyiide. 

Mrs.  Somers  went  also  with  Eunice  one  day 
to  see  Mrs.  Merritt,  who  was  quite  indisposed  at 
the  time,  and  unable  to  be  out. 

Eunice  said  'she  did  want  her  mother  to 
know  Rhoda's  mother!'  and  she  was  not  dis- 
appointed in  the  interview. 

"  Don't  you  like  Cousin  Dick,  mother  dear  ?" 
she  asked,  one  day. 

"  I  do,  indeed ;  I  think  he  is  a  really  esti- 
mable young  man,"  was  the  reply. 

"But  isn't  it  odd  that  he  and  papa  should 
take  such  a  mutual  liking !"  said  Eunice. 

"  There  they  go,  walking  out  again  to- 
gether !" 

"  Then  you  have  not  noticed  the  drift  of  their 
conversation  ?"  said  her  mother : — "  I  suppose 
it  is  no  secret  from  you,  although  of  coarse  you . 
will  not  speak  of  the  matter  out  of  the  family, 
until  it  is  fully  settled. 

"  Cousin  Dick  thinks  seriously  of  entering 
into  partnership  with  your  father,  in  his  busi- 
ness." 

14 


210  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

"  Oh,  mother !  Is  it  possible  ?  How  nico 
that  would  be !  But  I  thought,"  she  added, 
"  that  father's  business  of  late  had  been  hardly 
sufficient  to  offer  many  inducements  to  a  part- 
ner!" 

"  Very  true ;  but  you  know,  my  love,  he  has 
been  crippled  by  ill-health,  and  want  of  means. 
Our  friend  Dick  has  capital  to  invest,  and  has 
been  looking  around  for  a  good  opening,  to 
start  for  himself.  He  is  well  suited  with  your 
father's  line  of  business,  and  seems  to  put  a 
high  value  upon  his  experience  and  wisdom  ; — 
none  too  high,  you  and  I  would  say  !  Then  you 
are  aware,  dear,  that  the  new  railroad  is  fairly 
commenced  and  is  to  be  pushed  through  with 
all  possible  expedition  ;  and  this,  as  Dick  has 
foresight  enough  to  perceive,  will  make  a  great 
difference  in  the  business  of  our  town. 

"  Still,  even  if  they  resolve  upon  the  partner- 
ship, they  will  not  fully  decide  to  go  on  at 
Mansfield,  until  Dick  has  been  there,  to  look 
around  with  your  father.  He  proposes  now 
to  escort  you  and  Eanney  home,  next  month, 
and  see  the  place  for  himself." 


PLEASANT  THINGS.  211 

Eunice  clapped  her  hands  in  delight. 

Mrs.  Somers  smiled,  and  said:  "Do  not  be 
setting  your  heart  too  much  upon  this  plan, 
nay  darling ;  you  know  it  may  very  possibly 
fall  through." 

"  1  will  try  not  to,  but  I'm  afraid  I  cannot 
help  thinking  of  it !" 

She  mused  a  little,  and  then  said  : 

"  I  have  had  some  lessons,  you  know,  this 
uinter,  about  setting  my  heart  too  strongly 
on  any  plans ;  but  after  all,  mother,  don't  you 
think  it  is  right  to  look  on  the  bright  side,  and 
see  all  the  pleasant  things  we  can  ?" 

"  By  all  means,  my  darling ;  and  you  can 
understand  that  to  one  who  has  truly  committed 
his  way  unto  the  Lord,  there  is  always  some- 
thing to  make  the  heart  rejoice,  yes,  and  sing 
for  joy,  even  in  the  darkest  hours  ! 

"  Do  you  remember  those  lines  in  the  little 
poem  we  were  looking  over  last  evening  ? 

«' '  Let  thy  heart  open  to  the  bliss 

Ho  would  breathe  in  at  every  pore  ; 
Lire  but  in  Him,  thou  canst  not  miss 
His  mercies  in  their  boundless  store.' 


212  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"  And  then  again  : — 

' '  And  so  this  world,  in  its  pure  prime, 
Was  once  an  easier  way  to  God. 
But  still  'tis  glorious,  and  the  path 
Even  of  its  fallen  beauty,  lies 
Open  to  love,  and  clear  for  faith, 
Step  after  step,  into  the  skies  !' " 

Dr.  Browne,  in  his  interview  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Somers,  gave  them  considerable  encour- 
agement with  regard  to  Kannej. 

He  thought  that  with  careful  management  he 
might  escape  any  tedious  chronic  disease  ;  jet 
he  warned  them  that  the  child  might  be 
delicate  and  ailing,  even  with  the  best  of  care, 
for  months,  perhaps  years. 

This  opinion  was  much  more  favorable  than 
their  fears  had  led  them  to  anticipate. 

They  returned  home,  at  the  close  of  their 
pleasant  visit,  relieved  and  hopeful  as  to  their 
little  boy,  and  sincerely  pleased  and  thankful 
for  the  evident  improvement  of  their  eldest 
child. 

Eunice  had  indeed  improved,  as  Roland  had 
observed,  'in  more  ways  than  one,'  during  her 
sojourn  in  Holineford. 


PLEASANT  THINGS.  213 

She  had  grown  and  strengthened  physically  ; 
and,  although  she  was  not  one  who  would  be 
pronounced  handsome,  she  possessed  the  charm 
of  expressive  features,  animated  by  intelligence, 
and  rendered  winning  by  the  gentle  loving  spirit 
within. 

Yes,  the  heart  of  the  father  and  mother 
rejoiced  especially,  that  their  child  had  per- 
ceptibly grown  and  increased  in  the  knowledge 
of  Christ  Jesns  our  Lord. 

Dearly  would  her  intellectual  advantages 
have  been  purchased,  in  the  estimation  of  these 
faithful  Christian  parents,  had  she  failed  to 
make  progress  in  heavenly  wisdom ; — had  the 
influences  of  her  winter's  home  blighted,  or 
stunted  the  growth  of  that  plant  of  the  Lord's 
planting  which  they  had  so  devotedly  nurtured; 
— the  character  of  a  disciple  of  Christ ! 


CHAPTEE   XVI. 

"Stotet  Courts*!." 

1  No  dream  :— bnt  an  abiding  consciousness 
Of  an  approving  God  ;  a  righteous  aim  ; — 
An  Arm  outstretched  to  guide  them,  and  to  b]0s8 1" 

I  HE  visit  of  the  parents  of  Eunice 
had  given  much  pleasure  to  all  the 
household,  as  well  as  to  Eunice  and 

• 

little  Kanney. 

"  I  shall  expect  more  of  yon,  my  dear,"  said 
Miss  Dora,  in  her  lively  way,  "now  that  I  have 
seen  your  parents.  You  ought  to  be  a  pretty 
good  girl,  with  such  a  mother !" 

Eunice  thought  so  too. 

The  days  sped  rapidly,  more  so  than  ever, 
now  that  the   time  was   fixed   for   her   return 
home.     There  was  so  much  that  she  would  like 
to  do  before  leaving  Holmeford. 
(214) 


"SWEET  COUNSEL."  215 

Ranney  was  not  particularly  better ;  but 
Aunt  Mildred  was. 

She  was  very  foud  of  the  child,  and  liked  to 
have  him  with  her ;  and  he  was  very  happy  in 
her  room. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  Ranney,  when 
he  is  with  me,  my  dear ;"  said  the  kind  old 
lady,  when  Eunice  looked  in,  one  morning, 
thinking  she  might  be  wearied  of  her  young 
visitor.* 

"Let  him  stay  here  as  much  as  he  likes, 
unless  it  is  time  for  some  medicine,  or  nursing. 
I  kuow  you  can  make  use  of  all  your  time,  in 
these  busy  days." 

Eunice  saw  very  little  of  her  cousin  Dick, 
who  seemed  unusually  occupied ;  though  he 
found  time  for  an  occasional  allusion  to  '  the 
famous  time '  he  and  Ranney  would  have,  when 
he  took  his  vacation,  and  went  home  to  Mans- 
field with  them. 

The  passing  seasons  of  the  Church  were  not 
unnoticed,  amid  the  eager  claims  of  earthly 
work. 

On  Monday  of  "Whitsun-week,  Eunice  had 


216  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

proposed  to  take  K;imiey  to  church,  with  the 
aid  of  the  friendly  wheels  which  had  been  such 
a  help  to  her; — and  then,  after  service,  to  go 
to  Miss  Lyude's  to  practise. 

The  morning  proved  rainy,  and  consequently 
she  was  expecting  to  give  up  going,  but  Mrs. 
Hartwell  interposed. 

"My  sore  throat  will  prevent  me  from  going 
out,  but  I  can  attend  to  our  boy,  and  you  can 
go,  Eunice. 

"You  need  not  hasten  home,  either.  I 
expect  Ranney  will  be  very  much  amused  with 
the  paint-box  which  Dick  brought  for  him, 
Saturday  night.  Ah,  I  forgot  to  mention  it  to 
you  ! — I  thought  it  would  come  in  play  for  just 
such  a  time  :  so  you  can  practise  as  long  as 
your  throat  Avill  bear  it : — I  am  glad  mine  is  not 
to  be  tired  in  that  way  this  morning  !" 

"  I  wish  every  part  of  me  were  as  tough  as 
my  throat !"  cried  Eunice,  gayly  ;  "  I  think  that 
is  made  of  gutta-percha  ;  it  never  tires !  But 
auntie,  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for 
letting  me  go.  I  will  try  to  make  good  use  of 
my  morning. 


"SWEET  COUNSEL."  217 

"  How  kind  Cousin  Dick  was  to  think  of  a 
paint-box  for  Ranuey !  I  will  cut  out  some 
pictures  from  those  pictorial  '  Weeklies,'  in  the 
library,  if  you  have  done  with  them,  before  I 
go  ;  ai:d  show  him  how  to  color  them." 

Kauney  was  delighted  with  his  new  employ- 
ment, and  Eunice  left  him  seated  at  a  table 
with  his  coloring  apparatus  before  him,  happy 
as  a  king. 

"  I  suppose  we  are  not  to  have  many  more  of 
these  pleasant  singing  hours,  Eunie ! "  said 
Miss  Lynde,  when  there  was  a  pause  in  their 
practising. 

"  No ;  but  they  have  given  me  something  to 
remember  you  b}-,  as  long  as  I  live  ; — though  I 
never  could  forget  my  darling  teacher  ! —  It  is 
so  nice  to  be  able  to  read  music,  and  sing  by 
note ;  and  I  really  am  not  afraid  to  try  a  new 
tune  now ! 

"  How  I  ivisli  I  could  do  something  to  show 
how  much  I  thank  you  for  all  the  pains  you 
have  taken  to  teach  me !  " 

"  Why,  my  dear  child,  I  have  been  *  thanked ' 
and  rewarded  all  along !  "I  have  only  one 


218  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

further  reward  to  crave,  and  that  I  need  hardly 
ask !  " 

"  What  is  it?  "  inquired  Eunice,  eagerly. 

"  That  this  talent,  which  I  have  been  per- 
mitted to  aid  in  developing,  may  ever  be  conse- 
crated." 

Perceiving  that  Eunice  looked  a  little  awed 
and  perplexed,  she  hastened  to  add  : 

"  I  mean,  darling,  that  in  the  first  place,  you 
will  always  be  ready  to  serve  God  with  your 
voice,  as  for  instance  you  have  had  opportunity 
to  do  already,  this  spring." 

"  It  seems  to  me  now  that  I  shall  always  be 
glad  to  do  that  /"  said  Eunice. — "  I  wonder  if 
I  can  help  at  all  in  our  choir  at  home? 

"Now  I  think  of  it,  mother  mentioned  that 
one  lady  who  used  to  sing  has  married  and  left 
town.  Perhaps  I  shall  find  work  there  !" 

"  And  from  your  buoyant  tone,  dearie,  I  see 
that  you  deem  it  pleasant  work. 

"  So  it  is,  and  a  great  privilege  :  and  yet  you 
may  meet  some  trying  things  in  it : — you  may 
hear  unpleasant,  or  perhaps  even  unkind  criti- 
cisms upon  your  singing,  when  you  have  been 


"SWEET  COUNSEL."  219 

humbly  trying  to  do  your  best,  and  when  yon 
are  conscious  that  you  are  supplying  a  place 
which  might  else  be  unfilled. 

"  I  speak  of  these  things  only  to  warn  you, 
darling,  in  case  God  gives  you  this  work  to  do, 
to  remember  that  it  is  in  His  service,  and  for 
Him  ;  and  that  will  help  you  to  be  patient,  and 
not  easily  provoked." 

"  I  icttl  try  to  remember,  dear  Miss  Lynde ! 
But  you  said,  '  In  the  first  place ; '  how  else  can 
I  consecrate  my  voice  ?  " 

"  By  resolving  never  to  sing  any  profane 
or  irreverent  words  ;  or  any  sentiment  which 
you  would  feel  ashamed  to  avow,  in  any  other 
form." 

"  I  hope  I  should  not  do  that ;"  said  Eunice. 

"  Ton  look  a  little  shocked,  dear  ;  but  indeed, 
we  need  to  be  a  little  on  the  watch  in  this 
matter:  very  strange  and  unseemly  words  are 
often  uttered,  unthinkingly,  disguised  by  some 
popular  or  pleasing  air  !  " 

"  I  believe,"  said  Eunice,  after  a  pause,  "  my 
singing  lessons  may  prove  more  useful  to  me 
than  my  drawing:  although  I  have  enjoyed 


220  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

that  so  much,  when  1  could  go  on  with  it !  But 
I'm  afraid  what  I  have  learned  will  be  pretty 
much  a  loss,  for  I  cannot  do  much  yet  without 
a  teacher,  and  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  ever 
be  taught  any  further ;  —  sometimes  I  think  it 
was  not  wise  to  begin  !  " 

"  Then  you  think  wrongly,  my  dear  !  It  was 
right  and  wise  to  use  the  opportunity  as  long 
as  it  was  given  you.  You  cannot  tell  of  how 
much  use  the  knowledge  you  have  now  gained 
may  be  to  you,  if  you  should  never  be  able  to 
learn  more  of  the  art. 

"  When  I  was  a  little  girl  I  went  to  school  to 
a  lady  who  was  very  ingenious  at  different  kinds 
of  work. 

"She  always  kept  some  bit  of  light  work  in 
the  drawer  of  her  table,  in  the  school-room,  to 
take  up  at  recess,  or  when  she  •  had  a  spare 
moment  or  two. 

"  I  remember  once  standing  by  her,  watching 
her  busy  fingers  at  a  piece  of  netting,  which 
looked  like  puzzle-work  to  me. 

"  I  said   something  to   this  effect :   that  '  I 


"SWEET  COUNSEL."  221 

should  like  to  know  Low  to  do  that,  if  I  could 
ever  make  it  of  any  use.' 

"  '  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  show  you,  some 
time,'  said  my  teacher ;  '  and  as  to  making  use 
of  it,  do  you  always  make  a  point  to  learn 
everything  worth  knowing,  as  you  have  oppor- 
tunity ;  and  it  will  be  sure  to  come  in  play,  in 
some  way.' 

"  I  have  very  often  proved  the  truth  of  this 
saying  of  my  old  teacher.  So  do  not  quarrel 
with  your  drawing-lessons,  Miss  Eunice." 

Eunice  smiled.  "  I  suspect,"  she  said,  "  that 
I  set  out  with  too  magnificent  plans  and  desires, 
and  so  I  feel  disappointed,  when  they  come  to 
mind. 

"And  I  am  always  doing  that  same  thing, 
Miss  Lynde. 

"  I  do  wish — that  is,  I  think  it  would  be  such 
a  comfort  if  we  could  know  just  what  we  had 
before  us,  to  do,  in  our  lives  ;  and  then  perhaps 
we  should  not  make  so  many  mistakes,  and  try  at 
so  many  things  that  we  can  never  succeed  with." 

"  Stop,  stop,  my  dear  girl !  You  are  on  the 
wrong  track  entirely ! 


222  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

"  Do  not  wish  that  we  could  see  before  us  in 
the  path  of  life ;  we  are  far  happier  as  we  are ; — • 
our  Father  '  knoweth  the  way  that  we  take  ;' 
'  Our  times  are  in  His  hand.' 

"  And  as  to  trying  at  so  many  things  that  seem 
of  no  use ; — that  reminds  me  of  school-days 
again. 

"  Think  how  many  of  our  tasks,  as  little  chil- 
dren, seem  to  us  of  no  possible  use  ;  how  often 
we  have  heard  some  sturdy  little  fellow  mutter, 
'  "What's  the  good  of  learning  this !'  Yet  all  the 
while,  his  intellectual  powers  were  being  ^de- 
veloped and  disciplined  to  grapple  with  future 
difficulties,  and  remove  obstacles  in  his  onward 
career.  % 

"  It  is  just  so,  very  often,  darling,  with  those 
things  that  we  regard  as  mistakes, — a  waste  of 
time  and  effort.  Often  we  live  to  see  the  good 
that  has  come  to  us  through  these  very  means  ; 
and  if  we  cannot  see,  we  '  know  that  all  things 
work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
God  ;' — even  their  failures." 

Eunice  mused  a  little  over  these  words. 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  Miss  Lynde  ;  but 


"SWEET  COUNSEL."  223 

we  ought  to  look  forward,  and  plan,  and  try  to 
do  \vh;it  is  for  the  best ;  shouldn't  we  ?" 

"  Think  over  the  Collect  which  we  use  this 
week,  dear,  aud  it  will  answer  you. 

"Yes;  we  are  taught  to  pray  that  we  may 
'  hare  a  right  judgment  in  all  things.' 

"  But  we  also  pray  that  the  same  blessed 
Spirit  who  alone  can  guide  us,  will  cause  us 
*  evermore  to  rejoice  in  His  holy  comfort,' 
whether  our  plans  seem  to  us  to  succeed,  or  to 
fail." 

"  Our  Collects  always  give  us  something  to 
think  about,"  responded  Eunice. 

"  And  you  have  helped  me  so  much  in  using 
them.  Dear  Miss  Lynde,  how  I  shall  miss 
you !" 

"  Call  me  Frances  now,  Eunice ;  you  aud  I 
are  to  be  always  friends,  you  know,"  said  her 
companion,  drawing  her  more  closely  to  her 
siile. — "  Aud, — you  may  not  always  miss  me  !" 

Eunice  looked  up  suddenly,  aud  catchiug  the 
significant  look  and  smile  which  accompanied 
these  words,  a  whole  train  of  delightful  possi- 
bilities rushed  across  her  mind. 


224  EUNICE   SOMEKS. 

"  No,  no,"  said  her  friend,  laughingly,  placing 
her  hand  on  her  lips  as  Eunice  was  about  to 
interrogate  her : 

"  I  shall  not  explain  my  rash  announcement, 
so  you  need  ask  no  questions,  now.  Wait 
patiently  a  little  longer,  my  dear." 

"  Well,  but  }TOU  cannot  keep  me  from  guess- 
ing," replied  Eunice,  mischievously.  "  Oh,  if 
things  should  come  out  as  I  hope,  it  would  be 
almost  too  nice !" 

And  Eunice  tripped  homeward  that  morning 
with  a  light  step,  a  happy  heart,  and  a  mind 
full  of  useful  and  helpful  thoughts. 


CHAPTEE   XVII. 


'  Love  all  on  earth  that  charms  then  ao 
With  a  whole  heart  ;  'tis  life  to  love, 
But  still  remember,  life  below 
la  but  the  school  of  Life  Above  I" 


|  HE  middle  of  June,  the  time  appointed 
for  the  return,  was  now  at  hand. 

Mr.  Neville,  in  parting  with  his 
pupil,  gave  her  many  useful  directions  for  im- 
proving herself  at  home  in  drawing  ;  and 
warmly  expressed  the  hope  that  he  should  have 
the  pleasure  of  instructing  her  again,  before 
rery  long. 

The  packing  up  was  rather  a  different  matter 
from  that  when  Eunice  left  home.  Aunt  Dora, 
under  pretext  of  "  giving  her  dear  girl  all  the 
time  possible  for  her  studies,  now  that  her  eyes 
were  better,"  had  taken  charge  of  her  Spring 
15  (225) 


226  EUNICE   SOBERS. 

outfit,  aided  and  abetted  by  generous  Aunt 
Mildred  ;  and  it  was  found  necessary  to  replace 
the  little  old-fashioned  hair  trunk  with  one  much 
more  capacious,  to  be  returned  by  Cousin  Dick. 

Eunice  spent  an  hour  or  two  of  her  last  after- 
noon in  Holrneford  with  Aunt  Mildred. 

She  was  unable  to  sit  up  that  day,  but  re- 
clined on  her  lounge,  and  Eunice  sat  on  a  low 
seat  beside  her,  holding  her  hand  in  both  her 
own. 

Both  felt  that  it  might  be  their  last  opportu- 
nity for  "  a  good  talk,"  as  Aunt  Mildred  termed 
it. 

"  I  hardly  think  I  shall  tarry  here  until  you 
come  again  to  Holmeford,  my  darling,"  she 
said ;  "  but  you  will  not  forget  the  old  auntie 
who  lo-ved  you  very  much,  will  you?" 

Eunice  kissed  her  fondly,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  for  answer. 

"We  shall  meet  again,  dear  child,  in  our 
Father's  House  ;  and  then  we  shall  recount  the 
mercies  of  these  days  with  thankful  hearts,  and 
praise  Him  who  led  us  to  be  '  helpers  of  each 
other's  joy.' " 


HOME  AGAIN.  227 

"  I  think  that  help  has  been  all  on  one  side, 
dear  Aunt  Mildred !"  Eunice  said,  smiling 
through  her  tears :  "  you  have  been  doing 
something  to  make  me  happy  continually, 
since  I  came  here." 

"  And  you  have  been  a  great  comfort  to  me, 
my  love ! 

"  But  Aunt  Edith  is  calling ;  I  must  not  keep 
you  any  longer  now ;  you  will  come  in  to- 
morrow to  say  '  Good-bye !' ' 

It  was  rather  a  hard  task  to  say  good-bye, 
when  the  time  came;  for  Eunice  had  reason 
to  feel  warmly  and  gratefully  attached  to  her 
Holmeford  friends. 

They  had  a  pleasant  journey  home ;  Cousin 
Dick  was  exceedingly  kind,  making  Eanney  as 
comfortable  as  possible,  and  causing  the  time 
to  pass  very  agreeably  to  Eunice. 

Dick -was  lively  as  ever,  but  his  conversation 
had  lost  the  flippant  tone  which  had  once 
struck  Eunice  unpleasantly.  The  two  had  now 
many  subjects  in  common,  of  real  interest;  and 
Dick  no  longer  regarded  his  cousin  as  a  child, 
to  be  teased  and  bantered  for  his  amusement. 


228  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

At  Lome  once  more  !  Arid  how  delightful  it 
w.is  to  be  again  in  the  midst  of  the  dear 
circle. 

The  dear  little  place  was  looking  its  very 
prettiest ;  so  in  fact  was  Mansfield  in  general ; 
and  Dick  was  quite  charmed  with  his  proposed 
place  of  residence. 

He  and  Mr.  Somers  were  together  most  of 
the  time,  during  his  stay,  talking  up  their 
mutual  plans. 

Eunice  was  delighted  to  see  that  her  father 
appeared  in  better  health  than  she  had  seen 
him  in  a  long  time ;  and  he  was  evidently 
encouraged  and  hopeful  as  to  business  pros- 
pects. 

At  the  tea-table,  the  evening  before  Dick 
was  to  return  to  Holmeford,  the  announcement 
was  made  that  all  was  arranged,  for  the  new 
partnership,  to  go  into  effect  in  the  early 
autumn. 

The  boys  received  the  tidings  with  a  shout 
of  joy,  excusable  under  the  circumstances ; 
George,  as  well  as  Ranney,  having  found  out 
that  Cousin  Dick  was  "  tip-top,"  as  they 


HOME  AGAIN.  229 

expressed  themselves ; — "  the  nicest  sort  of  a 
fellow  for  a  grown-up  cousin  !"  George  added. 

Mrs.  Somers  and  Eunice  were  no  less  pleased, 
although  more  quiet  in  their  demonstrations  of 
joy. 

"  Are  you  really  coming  back  to  Mansfield  to 
stay,  Cousin  Dick  ?"  queried  Bess :  "  and  will 
you  live  with  us,  and  be  our  cousin  all  the 
time?" 

"I'll  be  your  cousin,  unchangeably,  little 
lady  ;  I'll  promise,  so  far !  But  as  to  where  I 
shall  live,  and  how,  I  am  not  so  certain." 

Meeting  a  merry  glance  from  Eunice,  he 
added : 

"  I  may  be  obliged  to  consult  some  one  else 
in  making  such  arrangements." 

"Eunice  evidently  fancies  herself  in  the 
secret,"  observed  Mrs.  Somers :  "  and  I  judge 
from  her  face  that  she  has  no  doubt  of  the 
arrangements  being  satisfactory  to  all  con- 
cerned." 

"I  don't  know  how  they  may  feel  on  tbe 
subject  in  Holmeford;"  said  Eunice,  "but  I 
am  sure  we  shall  have  reason  to  rejoice." 


230  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

Eunice  made  an  early  visit  to  baby  "Walter's 
grave,  her  little  sisters  leading  the  way.  It 
was  in  a  lovely  spot,  and  the  sister  felt  that 
she  would  do  well  to  visit  it  often,  and  thus 
remind  herself  of  resolves  seriously  and  earn- 
estly made,  but  which  she  feared,  from  past 
experience,  might  be  too  easily  broken. 

Eunice  readily  fell  into  a  round  of  duties, 
when  settled  again  at  home. 

Ranney,  at  her  request,  remained  her  especial 
charge ;  the  little  fellow  was  evidently  improv- 
ing, though  slowly ;  he  enjoyed  being  at  home, 
and  with  the  other  children,  once  more,  but 
when  he  was  feeling  poorly,  or  in  pain,  he  was 
easily  crossed  and  irritated  by  the  others. 

Eunice  tried  hard  to  teach  him  patience  and 
forbearance ;  she  often  told  him  of  her  friend 
Rhoda.  Ranney  was  always  interested  in  hear- 
ing of  her ; — and  Eunice,  while  teaching  him, 
humbly  endeavored  to  teach  herself  also,  con- 
stantly, by  the  remembrance  of  that  sweet 
example. 

Eunice  did  not  attempt  much  in  the  way  of 
study,  for  the  summer,  except  an  occasional 


HOME  AGAIN.  231 

review,  occupying  a  few  hours  of  each  week ; 
and  some  practice  at  drawing. 

But,  early  in  July,  Roland  returned  home. 
He  had  been  visiting  relatives  in  other  places, 
since  his  short  stay  in  Holmeford. 

He  was  full  of  the  spirit  of  study,  expecting 
to  enter  Dr.  Barnwell's  school  at  the  beginning 
of  the  fall  term. 

"  Suppose,  Eunice,"  said  he,  when  they  had 
one  day  been  talking  upon  their  favorite  themes, 
"suppose  we  study  together,  for  an  hour  or 
two,  every  day  when  you  can  spare  the  time  ; — 
we  might  read  Latin  together,  and  help  each 
other ;  what  do  you  say  ?" 

"You  can  very  easily  arrange  to  spare  the 
time,  I  think,  daughter ;"  said  Mrs.  Somers,  to 
whom  Eunice  had  appealed  by  a  questioning 
look;  "and  I  think  it  will  be  an  excellent 
plan  1" 

And  so  it  proved ;  if  the  satisfaction  of  the 
young  people  was  any  test. 

The  little  band  of  singers  who  led  in  the 
church  music  at  Mansfield,  gladly  welcomed  an 


232  EUNICE  SOMEKS. 

additional  voice,  when  Eunice  modestly  offered 
her  aid. 

And  Eunice  found  another  field  of  work 
opened  before  her. 

Talking  one  day  with  their  venerable  rector, 
and  answering  his  inquiries  about  Church  work 
in  Holmeford,  she  chanced  to  allude  to  the 
.Infant  Class  of  the  Sunday-school. 

"  Ah !"  said  Mr.  Parker,  that  is  something  I 
am  very  anxious  to  see  started  here.  There  is 
quite  a  flock  of  little  ones,  of  suitable  age,  in 
the  parish,  if  I  could  but  find  a  teacher  familiar 
with  the  work." 

"Eunice,  dear,"  said  her  mother,  after  a 
pause,  "  did  you  not  gain  a  little  experience, 
when  you  were  entrusted  with  Miss  Scott's 
class,  for  a  time  ?  I  reeolleot  your  aunt  men- 
tioned the  circumstances,  in  one  of  her  letters, 
while  you  were  troubled  with  your  eyes,  last 
winter." 

"Indeed!  Did  you  so?  l?hen,  my  dear, 
you  will  be  just  the  one  to  undertake  this  work 
for  me. 

"  And  a  good  strong  voice,  too  !    You  can 


HOME  AGAIN.  233 

train  the  little  things  in  singing.  My  dear 
child,  do  not  object ;  — I  said  you  might  under- 
take this  '  for  me,'  but  you  know  Who  calls  you 
to  it,  through  me ;  and  Whom  you  may  serve 
in  taking  up  this  duty." 

"  But  I  am  so  young,  dear  Mr.  Parker :  in- 
deed I  should  be  glad  to  do  it,  if  it  were  not 
for  that." 

"  You  are  young,  but  you  had  early  nurture, 
my  dear ;  and  you  have  some  especial  qualifi- 
cations. Besides,  your  little  scholars  will  be 
young,  in  proportion ;  and  you  will  be  all  the 
time  out-growiug  this  objection. 

"  What  say  you,  then ;  shall  I  gather  my  little 
lambs,  and  make  a  beginning  next  Sunday  ?" 

And  Eunice  made  answer,  as  she  felt  con- 
strained to  do,  to  a  similar  request,  before  : 

"  If  you  think  I  can  do  it,  sir,  I  will  try" 

Correspondence  with  Holmeford  was  kept 
tip  briskly  through  the  summer. 

One  letter,  received  by  Eunice  from  her 
friend,  Frances  Lynde,  will  furnish  some  ex- 
tracts which  may  interest  the  reader. 


234  EUNICE  SOMERS. 

"  Holmeford  is  very  quiet  now ;  in  fact,  it  is 
too  warm  for  mucli  exertion. 

"  You  ask  if  I  expect  to  leave  town  this 
summer  :  I  think  not ;  as  it  will  probably  be 
my  last  summer  under  my  father's  roof,  I  do 
not  feel  much  disposition  to  roam. 

"  Yes,  Eunie,  the  time  is  decided  upon ;  it 
is  to  be  near  Christmas  ; — probably  the  middle 
of  December.  And  having  honored  you  with 
this  confidence,  I  have  now  a  request  to  make 
of  you. 

"  I  want  you  to  be  one  of  my  young  brides- 
maids. I  shall  have  two  of  my  Sunday-school 
girls  besides,  I  think ;  but  I  have  set  my  heart 
upon  having  you. 

"  Consult  your  dear  mother ;  and  in  your 
next  letter  promise  me  that  you  will  be 
here. 

"  I  called  at  your  aunt's,  a  few  days  since, 
and  sat  awhile  with  Mrs.  Ellett.  I  think  she  is 
a  lovely  old  lady.  She  spoke  very  fondly 
of  you,  and  seemed  to  miss  you  very  much.  I 
think  she  has  failed  since  I  saw  her  last. 

"  Your  Aunt  Edith  spoke  of  her  desire  that 


HOME  AGAIN.  235 

you  should  spend  some  time  with  them  again 
this  Fall,  and  perhaps  go  on  again  with  your 
drawing. 

"Perhaps  I  should  not  mention  this,  but 
I  judged  from  her  manner  of  speaking  that  she 
had  already  made  the  proposal : — if  you  should 
do  so,  you  might  be  on  hand  at  the  time  I  need 
your  services. 

"  Dick  was  delighted  with  his  visit  at  Mans- 
field, and  is  well  satisfied  with  his  prospects. 

"  He  is  quite  desirous  that  I  should  see  the 
place ;  but  I  prefer  to  wait  now  until  I  see  it  as 
my  home ;  although  I  have  also  your  tempting 
invitation  as  an  inducement,  for  which  many 
thanks. 

"  I  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  I  saw  Mrs. 
Merritt  recently.  She  bears  her  loss  in  a  truly 
Christian  spirit,  although  she  evidently  misses 
her  dear  daughter  more  and  more.  The  next 
children  are  boys,  you  know  ;  and  Rhoda  was 
very  much  of  a  companion  for  her  mother, 
although  so  young. 

"  Mr.  Robertson  inquired  after  you  when  I 
saw  him  last :  indeed  many  friends  here  hold 


236  EUNICE  SOMEKS. 

you  in  loving  remembrance ;  but  none  more 
truly  do  so  than 

"  Your  friend, 

"  FRANCES  LYNDE." 

Eunice  handed  the  letter  to  her  mother,  and 
mused,  while  she  was  reading  it. 

This  was  the  first  intimation,  except  in  a 
general  way,  of  her  Aunt  Edith's  intended 
invitation. 

Mrs.  Somers  gave  back  the  letter,  saying 
quietly : 

"  Well,  dear,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

"I  hardly  know,  mother;  it  will  require  a 
good  deal  of  thought.  I  should  like  very 
much  to  be  there  at  the  time  of  the  wedding,  if 
y«u  can  afford  to  let  me  go.  But,  about  the 
longer  stay,  there  will  be  so  much  to  consider : — 
it  seems  very  soon  to  leave  you  alone  again ;  and 
then  there  is  Banney, — it  will  depend  a  good  deal 
upon  how  he  gets  on ; — and  my  little  class,  too." 

Some  further  discussioy.  followed,  as  was 
natural ;  but  at  length  Eunice  remarked,  laugh- 
ingly : 


HOME  AGAIN.  237 

"After  all,  mother  darling,  auntie  has  not 
invited  me  yet,  and  many  things  may  happen 
to  hinder  the  plan.  So  we  need  not  decide  the 
matter  yet." 

Mrs.  Somers  knew  that  her  sister  was  in 
earnest  in  the  proposal,  and,  as  matters  stood 
then,  it  seemed  that  it  would  be  well  for 
Eunice  to  accept  it ;  but  it  was  not  necessary 
to  say  this,  and  the  subject  was  dropped,  for 
that  time.  She  thought,  however,  with  real 
gratification,  of  the  different  manner  in  which 
a  similar  proposition  had  been  regarded  by  her 
child  the  year  before. 

Then, — although  the  difference  betrayed  it- 
self less  by  words  than  by  other  unmistakable 
tokens, — all  was  eager,  impetuous  desire  to 
enter  upon  the  path  which  promised  so  fully  to 
gratify  her  inclination  and  ambition. 

Noiv  the  first  question  seemed  to  be,  "  What 
is  my  duty  ?" — "  Lord,  what  wilt  Thou  have  me 
to  do  ?"  and  she  appeared  ready  to  acquiesce 
cheerfully  in  whatever  decision  should  seem  to 
be  right* 

And  here  we  must  take  leave  of  the  young 


238  EUNICE   SOMERS. 

disciple,  some  of  whose  life  lessons  have  filled 
these  humble  pages. 

If  any  of  our  readers  would  fain  follow  her 
farther  in  her  course,  let  them  rest  content 
with  the  assurance,  that,  having  sincerely  com- 
mitted her  way  unto  the  Lord,  her  song,  even 
to  the  end,  will  be  the  same  : 

"  Though  here  and  there  some  other  lot 

Than  I  had  wished  befell  ; — 
Truth  never  failed,  nor  love  forgot ; 
All  hath  been  wondrous  well !" 


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